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"Flambeau!"

The sound was illusive. Flambeau listened with every bit of him, his taut, strong body alert with eagerness. The call might have come from the landing outside the small salon of Madame la Comtesse, but it had sounded higher up; the schoolroom, perhaps, or the nurseries beyond. Flambeau gained the top of a high staircase with a few leaping bounds, ran down a corridor, turned a corner, and almost knocked down his own Marie Josephine, who had been calling him. He leaped upon her in welcome.

"I've been out on the balcony, Flambeau. I called you from there, for I thought you might be in the garden."

A voice from a half-open door near them called sharply, "Marie Josephine, come in and close the door."

Marie Josephine walked slowly toward a flicker of light reflected on the wall opposite the schoolroom door, and went inside, closing the door after her. Flambeau had come in with her and he walked somewhat disdainfully toward a table which was drawn close to a dancing fire in a deep, old-fashioned fireplace. The table was covered with bits of brocade, satin, and gold lace. Two girls sat one on each side of it, and a short, fat maid sat cross-legged on a stool at their feet, bending over a piece of sewing in her lap. When Marie Josephine and the dog came into the room, the maid stood up and made a curtsy.

"Will you sit in your favorite big chair by the fire, Little Mademoiselle?" she asked.

Marie Josephine shook her head for reply, watching the swift darting of the maid's needle as she sat down again and went on with her work. Then she glanced at her cousin Hortense, who held a piece of ermine up before her.

"It will do for the edging of the mantle, will it not, Proté?" Hortense asked the maid. Without waiting for an answer, she went on speaking. "I hoped that Tante would allow us to sew the ruby in the crown, but she would not consent!" As she spoke, Hortense looked at Denise, Marie Josephine's sister, who sat opposite her.

Denise tossed her red-brown curls out of her eyes and pouted. The pout made her look younger than her fourteen and a half years.

"You've made this one crookedly. You must do another one at once, Proté," she said, handing the maid a small black object.

"Yes, Mademoiselle," Proté answered.

Marie Josephine

"Fasten this cord, please, Proté. It does not seem to be right the way I have done it!" Hortense held out another black object to the little maid, who took it smilingly, with a little bow which made her black hair, gathered into a huge knob at the back of her neck, stand out like a big black bun.

Marie Josephine still stood by the fire, Flambeau beside her. She looked at her brother as he spoke.

"Proté cannot do everything at once," he said. He sat in the deep shadow of the window seat at the far end of the room, his hands clasped about his knees.

Denise smiled at him over her shoulder as she answered: "You know nothing about these things, Lisle. You have nothing to do about them, but sit and look on. All that concerns you regarding them is that you are to wear the robe and crown at the De Soignés' ball!"

"Ball! You speak as though you were going to a ball. You are only two years older than Rosanne and I. There is no reason why we should not have been invited. I should think they would be ashamed to leave Rosanne out of it all!" exclaimed Marie Josephine.

"Little Mademoiselle would like, perhaps, to make a bow for her hair? A rosette of this rose brocade and a bit of the gold tinsel would become her," suggested Proté, tying a neat knot in a corner of the piece of black cardboard which Hortense had handed her.

Marie Josephine shook her head. "No, Proté," she answered.

Flambeau came up to Denise and nosed at the bits of ribbon in her lap. Denise gave his head a pat.

"Would you not like Flambeau to have a big rose bow? Greyhounds always look better with bows," she said.

Marie Josephine shook her head listlessly, but did not speak. A big rose bow would be charming for Flambeau, a puffy one under his right ear. She was not invited to the De Soigné party, therefore she would not appear to be interested in any of the glittering array on the table. She caught her brother's eyes. His head was thrown back against the dark, carved-oak window settle. He was looking straight at Marie Josephine, and she saw that he was smiling. She frowned at him with her straight black brows, and he frowned back with his straight fair ones. Marie Josephine's frown was in earnest, but her brother's was in fun.

"What a thundercloud! What a dragon! What an ogress! What a--"

Marie Josephine stopped her brother's words with a stamp of her foot. "You are not to say that, Lisle!" she exclaimed passionately.

"Don't tease her, my cousin. How can you do it?" reproved Hortense, rising as she spoke and going over to the fireplace. She laid both hands on the carved, gilded mantelpiece and stood looking down at the dancing swirl of blue and gold. Suddenly she put her face in her hands.

Marie Josephine went up to her and touched her arm, forgetting her own trouble for the moment. "What is it, Hortense? Why are you sad?" she asked.

Hortense raised her face and smiled. "I'm not sad, chérie; not this afternoon. It is only that now everything seems grey and dreadful, and Tante is unhappy because so many of her friends have gone away, and because of everything."

"You'll have the party," Marie Josephine answered bitterly.

Her cousin put her arm about her for a moment and gave her a little hug. "You want to go so badly. I do wish you could; but even if Madame de Soigné had asked you, Tante would never have allowed you to go. Twelve and a half doesn't sound much younger than fourteen and a half, but it is, you know," she said.

"I'm always treated like a baby," Marie Josephine replied. There was a good deal of truth in her words. She was small and quiet and shy. She would not be thirteen until November and that was three months away.

Lisle came up to the fire, stepping over Flambeau, who had settled himself in the heat of the blaze, and pinched Marie Josephine's ear.

Proté came up to him with a collar of fluted gold tinsel and ermine. "Will you allow me to see if it fits properly, Monsieur Lisle?" she asked, putting her funny, plump face on one side as she examined her handiwork.

"No, I'll not be bothered with frills to-day." Lisle frowned this time in earnest, rubbing his shoulders restlessly against the side of the mantel and looking out of the window where dark trees tossed against a grey, stormy sky.

Hortense and Denise both spoke at once. "Lisle!" they exclaimed. Denise jumped up and came over to him, dragging a piece of blue velvet after her and unmindful of the fact that a piece of black cardboard was sticking to her chin. They all burst out laughing as she clasped her hands together and burst into a torrent of words.