"It is not a bit altered," she cried, quite joyfully, turning
to Mademoiselle Henriette as she spoke.
"You have been here before then," says Mademoiselle, looking
curiously at the child, and seeing for the first time, in the
clearer light of the room, what a child she was.
"Yes," answered Madelon, "I used to come here very often; we
liked coming, because Madame Bertrand was so kind. I know she
will be glad to see me again--ah!" she cried, breaking off in
the middle of her sentence, "there is the little china dog I
used to play with, and the bonbonniere with the flowers
painted on the top--ah, and my little glass--do you know, Madame
used always let me drink out of that glass when I had supper
with her--but you were not here, then, Mademoiselle."
"That is true, I have only been with my aunt about six months;
she is growing old, and wants some one to help her," answered
Mademoiselle Henriette, a most brisk, capable-looking little
personage, "but I daresay she will recollect you. Are you all
alone? Have you come far to-day?"
"Not very far," said Madelon, colouring up, and suddenly
recalled to the present.
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