He had done little more than give a cordial welcome to Marjory, and pat Margaret on the head, when he again disappeared, to be seen no more until supper-time. "Well, Magot," said Marjory, sitting down in the chair, while Margaret as before accommodated herself with a footstool at her feet, "let us get on with thy story. I want to know all about that affair two years ago.

"And thou art still fretting in secret, my dove?" "I do not know about fretting. I think that is too energetic a word. It would be better to say dying." "Magot, mine own, my sunbeam! Do not use such words!" "It is better to see the truth, Lady. And that is true. But I do not think it will be over in a month." The Countess could not trust herself to speak. She went on stroking the soft hair.

"And the Lady bade me tell thee, mignonne, that she is coming to thy bower shortly, with a pedlar who is waiting in the court, to choose stuffs for thy Whitsuntide robes." "A pedlar! Delightful! Aunt Marjory, I am sure you want something?" Marjory laughed. "I want thy tale finished, Magot, before the pedlar comes."

Sligo Moultrie becomes suddenly extremely attentive to Miss Magot. Grace Plumer ponders many things, and among others wonders how, when, where, Sligo Moultrie learned to talk in parables. She does not ask herself why he does so. She is a woman, and she knows why. The conversation takes a fresh turn. Corlaer Van Boozenberg is talking of the great heiress, Miss Wayne.

A wise one will quietly get her own way, and let him fancy he has got his. That is thy work, Magot." Margaret shook her bright head with a laugh. Such work as that was not at all in her line. It took only a day for the girls to discover that the Belasez who had come back to them in October was not the Belasez who had gone away from them at Whitsuntide. She seemed almost a different being.

The Countess softly stroked the cedar hair. She hardly understood the explanation. Things of that sort did not sting her. But this she understood and felt full sympathy with that her one cherished darling was in trouble. "Who was it, Magot?" "Do not ask me, Lady. I did not mean to complain of any one. And nobody intended to hurt me." "What did she say?"

First, of preventing the Lord King's marriage with the Duke of Austria's daughter, by telling the Duke that the King was lame, and blind, and deaf, and a leper, and " "Gently, Magot, gently!" said Marjory, laughing. "I am not making a syllable of it, fair Aunt! And that he was a wicked, treacherous man, not worthy of the love or alliance of any noble lady.

I think you knew all about it at the time." "Very likely I did, Magot. One forgets things, sometimes." And Margaret, looking up into the fair face, saw, and did not understand, the hidden pain behind the smile. "So my Lord of Canterbury complained of my fair father to the Lord King. And then Aunt Marjory, do you like priests?" "Magot, what a question!" "But do you?"

"Now, Magot, let me see for thee," said her mother. "Thy two woollen gowns must be shorn for winter, and thou wilt want a velvet one for gala days: but there is time for that by and bye. "And may I not have a new mantle?" was Margaret's answer, in a coaxing tone. "A new mantle? Thou unconscionable Magot! Somebody will be ruined before thy wants are supplied." "And a red velvet gipciere, Lady?

But I reflected that probably the censorship of plays was an inactive monstrosity; not exactly a survival, since it seemed obviously at variance with the genius of the people, but an heirloom of past ages, a bizarre and imported curiosity preserved because of that weakness one has for one's old possessions apart from any intrinsic value; one more object of exotic virtu, an Oriental potiche, a magot chinois conceived by a childish and extravagant imagination, but allowed to stand in stolid impotence in the twilight of the upper shelf.