CHAPTER XIII.

"Angela, has Fluffy laid an egg to-day?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Will you sell it to me? I've got the money for it." Poppy opened her hand to display the penny she had been tightly grasping.

"What do you want to buy an egg for?" asked Angela, with sudden caution. "I don't think you had better eat any more without asking Cousin Charlotte first. You had a big breakfast."

"I don't want to eat it," cried Poppy, in a tone of wounded dignity. "I want it to—to give to some one."

"Some poor person?"

"Well, yes, I think she is poor. I know she is not well, and eggs are good for people who are not well."

"Yes, very. Well, there's the egg. Isn't it a beauty? I call it perfectly lovely." Angela looked at it lovingly. To her there never were or would be such eggs as her Fluffikins laid. "Now do be careful. How are you going to carry it?"

Poppy ran off, and in a moment was back again with a little covered basket lined with hay. Evidently it had been prepared beforehand for this purpose. The egg was laid in and carefully covered over, and the lid shut down and secured.

"Are you going with it now?" asked Angela.

"In a minute. I have to get something else too."

The girls were always very considerate to each other over their little mysteries and secrets, so Angela, without further inquiry, went away to her hens, and Poppy hurried off to the end of the garden, where she gathered a bunch of beautiful green parsley, and wrapped it round with a piece of paper which she tied with a little piece of pink ribbon she had saved on some previous occasion.

Miss Charlotte and Anna were in the kitchen arranging the meals for the day. Esther was busy in the bedroom, Angela was in the hen-house, and Penelope already at the church, practising, for although it was Easter, and holiday time, she continued her organ-practice daily. So no one saw Poppy as she and Guard started off together. She was bound on a secret expedition to Mademoiselle Leperier, carrying with her all she could compass as suitable offerings to an invalid—a new-laid egg and a bunch of her own fresh parsley. She had not mentioned her plan to Miss Charlotte— not because she was afraid of being stopped, but because she wanted to give of her very own, and not make demands on Cousin Charlotte. She knew if she did speak of it that Miss Ashe would be thinking of all sorts of things to send, and Poppy did not want that. She wanted it to be entirely her own little scheme, in gratitude to the poor lady for her kindness to Esther.

She did not know in the least how long the walk would be, but she was prepared for it to take her a very great while. Essie had said it was a long way there but a short way back, and it had not occurred to either of them to wonder how this could be possible. Thinking, though, of the expedition before her as something very great, she hurried along without once pausing to look at the river or play on the bridge or pay heed to any of the hundreds of attractions which lie on a walk on a beautiful spring day. Guard made little dashes and excursions in all directions, but was never absent for more than a moment or two from his little mistress's side.

Now and again Poppy sat down on a big boulder to rest, standing her basket on the ground beside her, and she and Guard would gaze eagerly about them at the wide-spreading sunny moorland; and probably both of them thought of the games they might be having there if matters so serious were not engaging their attention, but no thought of doing so crossed their minds now.

The result of all this haste was that, long before she expected it, Poppy found herself face to face with the little brown cottage, and felt there must be some mistake. This could not be the place, she thought; it must be another. Perhaps, oh dreadful doubt! she had come the wrong way. She was a very wise little person, though, and to make sure, before she went further, she determined to go in and inquire.

Rather timidly, but full of interest, she walked along the paved garden path, and tapped at the door with her knuckles, not being able to reach the knocker. It was a feeble knock, but soon called forth an answer. A man opened it, an elderly man—Anne himself, in fact.

"Please does Mademoiselle Le-le-, the French lady, live here?" she asked, finding some difficulty in pronouncing the long French name.

"Yes, m'amzelle. M'amzelle Leperier lives here."

Poppy was a little non-plussed. She had not thought out any plan or reason to give for her visit, nor how she was to reach the presence of Esther's new friend, but her usual ready frankness stood her in good stead. "I have come to ask how she is, and how—how Anne's wife is. My sister Esther was here last night. Made—Miss, the French lady, asked her to tea, and—and sent her home with a Mr. Anne." The man smiled.

"Ah! I know. The young lady I conducted to her home last night— Miss Esthaire. Come inside, m'amzelle. I know M'amzelle Leperier will wish to see you."

A sudden shyness rushed over Poppy. "Oh, I—I don't think I had better come in, thank you. I didn't mean to do that. I have to go all the way home, and it will take me rather a long time. I—I only brought a fresh egg that Angela's hen laid this morning, and some parsley out of my own garden for—for Miss Leperier, and perhaps if she didn't like it she might give it to your wife. I am sorry I had nothing nicer."

"There couldn't be anything nicer, m'amzelle," said Anne Roth with ready tact. "It will come in for an omelette for the mistress's lunch, and the parsley too, it will be most useful. How fine it is. We have none here. It is always a difficulty to get any."

"Oh, I am so glad I brought it!" cried Poppy, flushing with delight. "If ever you want any, do come and have some of mine. I have a whole bedful, and all from a penny packet of seed that I sowed myself. I should be delighted to give you some at any time."

She refrained from mentioning the fact that it was her only source of income. She had thrust the basket and the parsley into the man's hand, and was edging away.

"But M'amzelle will be annoyed with me if I let you go all the way back without any rest," he pleaded. "Please to enter, m'amzelle."

At that moment Mademoiselle Leperier herself appeared. Anne turned to her with relief.

"Here, M'amzelle, is the sister of the young lady who was here last night. She has come with kind inquiries for M'amzelle and my wife."

Mademoiselle Leperier stepped to the door, and taking the blushing Poppy's hands in both her own, stooped and kissed her. "Oh, you dear child, how sweet of you," she cried with warm delight. "Come in, you must come in. Is that beautiful dog at the gate yours? I saw him there and felt I must go out and speak to him, and then I heard your voice and Anne's. Do call him in, I want to know him too. You must both come."

There was no shyness or hesitation about Guard; he hurried in almost before he was invited to, and he and his little mistress found themselves in the room Esther had described so vividly the night before, only now it was lit by sunshine instead of fire and lamp. Poppy did not like to look about her, she knew it was not polite to do so, but her eye fell on the dresser with its lovely china, and the blue bowl of primroses and moss and ivy leaves on the little black table, and thought it all more perfect even than she had imagined.

Guard, as though feeling he was too large for the small room, went over and sat close against the wall by the window, shedding around him genial smiles in return for all the attentions lavished on him. Anne was despatched for milk and biscuits; and while he was gone Mademoiselle inquired for Esther, and how she got home, politely hoping they had not been very anxious.

"Yes, we were; we were very anxious, thank you," said Poppy, half absently. She was looking at her hostess, and thinking of the story she had heard of her. It seemed so wonderful that after going through such terrible tragedies she could laugh and talk and be interested in little every-day matters. But she was, especially when Poppy, at last recovering her tongue, told her all about themselves, and their father and mother in Canada, and how they four came to Cousin Charlotte's because no one else could have them, and how frightened they ware until they saw her, but were never frightened after, she was so kind; and how they all wanted to help her, and how they tried all sorts of ways.

Mademoiselle was very interested in the parsley-bed, and Angela's hen, and Esther helping in the house, and Penelope's desire to be able to play the organ and sing; and Poppy chattered on, delighted to find so interested a listener.

"I think it quite cheered her and did her good," she confided to Angela later. "She said it did, and she asked me to come again; and I am to keep threepennyworth of parsley for her every week. Isn't it lovely! A whole shilling a month! Oh, I wish I had a whole garden to sow parsley in. Do you think it will go on growing for ever, Angela?"

Angela did not know, but she was hopeful. Ephraim, however, thought that at the rate she was picking it her crop would not last another month, and strongly advised the clearing of a part of the bed and tilling more seeds.

But when Poppy went to Esther to tell her about her expedition, she met with a disappointment. Esther did not seem at all pleased at the attentions she had shown the invalids. She seemed, in fact, quite annoyed.

"I was going myself," she said coldly, "by and by; but I sha'n't now, of course. I don't suppose Mademoiselle Leperier wants the whole Carroll family continually going to her house. It was not right for you, either, to go all that way alone; it was not safe."

"I had Guard with me," said the crestfallen Poppy. "I didn't know you wouldn't like it, Essie. I thought you—you would be glad." Her lip would quiver a little as she spoke. "I—I only wanted to be kind to the poor lady because she was kind to you, and I—didn't mean to go inside, but she made me. Aren't you really going again, Esther? She expects you, she said so."

"I can't go if all the rest of you keep going. Besides, Mademoiselle won't want me."

"Oh yes, she will," cried Poppy, almost in tears. "She does want you; and—and I won't go any more if you don't like me to. You can take the parsley for me. I wish now I hadn't promised to bring it; but they can't get any one to come, and—and—" and then a tear really forced its way out and fell; but at the sight of it Esther's better nature conquered her temper, and she took her little sister in her arms with real remorse.

"No, darling, you shall go, and we will go together; but not always," she added presently. "I should like to go alone sometimes, Poppy, to have a quiet talk with Mademoiselle."