She could not say anything in praise of the poor little tree, and she knew that Jules expected her to.

She felt relieved that Henri's presence made it impossible for her to express any opinion.
She bade Jules good-by gaily, but went home with such a sober little face that Cousin Kate began to question her about her visit.

Madame, sitting by the window with her embroidery-frame, heard the account also.
Several times she looked significantly across at Cousin Kate, over the child's head.
"Joyce," said Cousin Kate, "you have had so little outdoor exercise since Jules's accident that it would be a good thing for you to run around in the garden awhile before dark." Joyce had not seen madame's glances, but she felt vaguely that Cousin Kate was making an excuse to get rid of her.

She was disappointed, for she thought that her account of monsieur's queer actions and Jules's little tree would have made a greater impression on her audience.

She went out obediently, walking up and down the paths with her hands in her jacket pockets, and her red tam-o'shanter pulled down over her eyes.