Rose put on a mien of haughty indifference, but the water was in her eyes.
Josephine looked sorrowful.
When they talked over everything together at night, she reproached herself.

"We behaved ill to poor Edouard: we neglected him." "He is a little cross, ill-tempered fellow," said Rose pettishly.
"Oh, no! no!" "And as vain as a peacock." "Has he not some right to be vain in this house ?" "Yes,--no.

I am very angry with him.

I won't hear a word in his favor," said Rose pouting: then she gave his defender a kiss.

"Yes, dear," said Josephine, answering the kiss, and ignoring the words, "he is a dear; and he is not cross, nor so very vain, poor boy! now don't you see what it was ?" "No." "Yes, you do, you little cunning thing: you are too shrewd not to see everything." "No, indeed, Josephine; do tell me, don't keep me waiting: I can't bear that." "Well, then--jealous! A little." "Jealous?
Oh, what fun! Of Camille?
Ha! ha! Little goose!" "And," said Josephine very seriously, "I almost think he would be jealous of any one that occupied your attention.