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And then I noticed that the little ormer shell curls about this little lady's face were not all gray, but mixed gray and brown, and that this little face was, if anything, still more frigidly ungracious than the last, a regular little martinet of a face, and I knew that it must be another of the Miss Maugers. "Yes, ma'm'zelle, with your permission."
"You see we have to be very strict in such matters," said the younger Miss Mauger, settling herself very gracefully on a chair so that her skirts disposed themselves in nice straight lines. "With forty young ladies under one's charge one cannot be too careful." "I am quite sure you are very careful of them, ma'm'zelle," I said, at which she actually smiled a very little bird-like smile.
Her face reminded me somewhat of Aunt Jeanne Falla's, but lacked the kindly twinkle of the eyes which redeemed Aunt Jeanne's shrewdest and sharpest speeches. She had little fiat rows of grey curls, tight to her head, on each side of her face, for all the world like little ormer shells sticking to a stone. "Monsieur Le Marchant?" she asked. "No, madame ma'm'zelle. I am Phil Carré."
He brightened, however, when he saw us. "B'en! That's all right," he said very heartily. "Gray Robin is a proud horse this day, ma'm'zelle, with the prettiest maid in the Island on his back and the best man," he added meaningly. "I'm just hoping that crazy Frenchman will bring my Black Boy back all safe and sound. He's got more than a bit of the devil in him at times the horse, I mean.
"If I had known, I would have got a letter from Aunt Jeanne Falla, but such a thing never entered into my head for a moment." "You know Madame Le Marchant Miss Jeanne Falla that was?" "Know Aunt Jeanne? Well, I should I mean, yes, madame, I mean ma'm'zelle. She has known me from the day I was born." "Ah!... And you think she would have accorded you permission to see mademoiselle?"
That was only a hint. Who are you, and what do you want here?" "I'm Phil Carré, of Belfontaine. I want to see Monsieur Le Marchant and Ma'm'zelle Carette." "Oh, you do, do you? And what do you want with them?" "I'll tell them when I see them. Do you always wish your friends good-morning with a musket on Brecqhou?" "Our friends don't come till they're asked."
"I've come to see Carette Ma'm'zelle Le Marchant, I mean," I stammered, very red and awkward. "If you'll come in, I'll tell Miss Mauger," she smiled; and I stepped inside, and was shown into one of the front rooms with the very straight curtains. The room inside was very stiff and straight also.
"And I thought I would like to see Carette again before I went " "Ah!... And may I ask if you have sought permission from Mademoiselle Le Marchant's relatives before making this call?" "Permission? To see Carette? No, madame ma'm'zelle. I never dreamt of such a thing. Permission to see Carette! Ma fé!" That was what was going on in her mind, I think, as she bored at me with the little gimlets.
"Oh!... You are not then one of Mademoiselle Le Marchant's brothers?" "No, ma'm'zelle." "Oh!" "We have always been friends since we were children," I explained stumblingly, for her bright little eyes were fixed on me, through her gold-rimmed spectacles, like little gimlets, and made me feel as if I was doing something quite wrong in being there.
"Qué-hou-hou!" croaked Johnnie, and Marielihou yawned and made a futile attempt to wash behind her ears but found it discomforting to a sore hind-leg, so gave it up and spat at him instead. "And, moreover, I won't have you at my party." "Hou-hou! I'm coming. Ma'm'zelle she ask me." "I'll tell her to send you back-word." "She wun't, she wun't. Where you goin'?"