Belle-Ange has a temper, too! Let us forget all about it. Félicité, my
dear, bring us Hydromel, and we will drink forgetfulness." He opened the
door of the cage, and William the Conqueror came mincing out, waddling
on his inturned toes like some fat, velvet-clad dowager.

Hydromel is a Norman liqueur, thick and cloying. Brigit loathed it, but
could not resist Joyselle, who, the parrot on his left wrist, poured the
sweet stuff into little glasses and handed one to her.

"Item: forget that we both have bad tempers," he said, striking his
glass against hers. "Item; remember that we are both good in our hearts;
item, remember that father and daughter must be patient with each
other."

As she drained her glass Théo came in and laughed as he saw what they
were doing.

"A reconciliation already?" he cried. "Papa, what have you been up to?"

"We have both been correcting and being corrected. _Bon, c'est fini!_"




CHAPTER NINE


"My dear Gerald, anyone would think _I_ wanted her to do it!" Lady
Kingsmead's voice was very fretful, for Carron had done nothing but talk
to her about Brigit for the last fortnight, and though she knew that his