“Yes, madame.” Léonie recoiled slightly, fearing another embrace.

Fanny tripped to her wardrobe.

“And you must call me Fanny, my dear. Off with those—those dreadful clothes!”

Léonie glanced down at her slim figure.

“But, madame, they are very fine clothes! Monseigneur gave them to me.”

“Indelicate creature! Off with them, I say! they must be burned.”

Léonie sat down plump upon the bed.

“Then I will not take them off.”

Fanny turned, and for a moment they stared at one another. Léonie’s chin was tilted, her dark eyes flashed.

“You are very tiresome,” pouted Fanny. “What can you want with man’s attire?”

“I will not have them burned!”

“Oh, ’tis very well, my dear! Keep them if you will!” said Fanny hastily, and wheeled about as the door opened. “Here is Rachel! Rachel, this is Mademoiselle de Bonnard, my brother’s ward. She—she wants some clothes.”

The tirewoman gazed at Léonie in horrified wonder.

“So I should think, my lady,” she said austerely.

Lady Fanny stamped her foot.

“Wicked, insolent woman! Don’t dare to sniff! And if you say a word below-stairs, Rachel——”

“I would not so demean myself, your ladyship.”

“Mademoiselle—has come from France. She—she was compelled to wear those garments. It does not matter why. But—but now she wants to change them.”

“No, I do not,” said Léonie truthfully.

“Yes, yes, you do! Léonie, if you are disagreeable, I shall lose my temper!”

Léonie looked at her in some surprise.

“But I am not disagreeable. I only said——”

“I know, I know! Rachel, if you look like that, I vow I will box your ears!”

Léonie crossed one leg under her.

“I think I will tell Rachel everything,” she said.

“My dear! Oh, as you please!” Fanny flounced to a chair, and sat down.

“You see,” said Léonie gravely, “I have been a boy for seven years.”

“Lawks, miss!” breathed Rachel.

“What is that?” inquired Léonie, interested.

“It is nothing!” said Fanny sharply. “Go on, child.”

“I have been a page, Rachel, but now Monseign—I mean, the Duc of Avon—wants to make me his—his ward, so I have to learn to be a girl. I do not want to, you understand, but I must. So please will you help me?”

“Yes, miss. Of course I will!” said Rachel, whereupon her mistress flew up out of her chair.

“Admirable creature! Rachel, find linen! Léonie, I implore you, take off those breeches!”

“Don’t you like them?” inquired Léonie.

“Like them!” Fanny waved agitated hands. “They are monstrous improper! Take them off!”

“But they are of an excellent cut, madame.” Léonie proceeded to wriggle out of her coat.

“You must not—you positively must not speak of such things!” said Fanny earnestly. “’Tis most unseemly.”

“But, madame, one cannot help seeing them. If men did not wear them——”

“Oh!” Fanny broke into scandalized laughter. “Not another word!”

For the next hour Léonie was bundled in and out of garments, while Fanny and Rachel twisted and turned her, laced her and unlaced her, and pushed her this way and that. To all their ministrations she submitted patiently, but she displayed no interest in the proceedings.

“Rachel, my green silk!” commanded her ladyship, and held out a flowered petticoat to Léonie.

“The green, my lady?”

“The green silk that became me not, stupid girl! Quickly! ’Twill be ravishing with your red hair, my love!”

She seized a brush, and proceeded to arrange the tumbled curls. “How could you cut it? ’Tis impossible to dress your hair now. No matter. You shall wear a green riband threaded through, and—oh, hasten, Rachel!”

Léonie was put into the green silk. It was cut low across the chest, to her evident confusion, and spread over a great hoop below the waist.

“Oh, said I not that ’twould be ravishing?” cried Fanny, stepping back to look at her handiwork. “I cannot bear it! Thank goodness Justin is to take you into the country! You are far, far too lovely! Look in the mirror, ridiculous child!”

Léonie turned to see herself in the long glass behind her. She seemed taller, all at once, and infinitely more beautiful, with her curls clustering about her little pointed face, and her big eyes grave and awed. Her skin showed very white against the apple-green silk. She regarded herself in wonder, and between her brows was a troubled crease. Fanny saw it.

“What! Not satisfied?”

“It is very splendid, madame, and—and I look nice, I think, but——” she cast a longing glance to where her discarded raiment lay. “I want my breeches!”

Fanny flung up her hands.

“Another word about those breeches, and I burn them! You make me shudder, child!”

Léonie looked at her solemnly.

“I do not at all understand why you do not like——”

“Provoking creature! I insist on your silence! Rachel, take those—those garments away this instant! I declare I will not have them in my room.”

“They shall not be burned!” said Léonie challengingly.

Fanny encountered the fierce glance, and gave vent to a little titter.

“Oh, as you will, my love! Put them in a box, Rachel, and convey them to Mistress Léonie’s apartment. Léonie, I will have you look at yourself! Tell me, is it not a modish creation?” She went to the girl and twitched the heavy folds of silk into position.

Léonie regarded her reflection again.

“I think I have grown,” she said. “What will happen if I move, madame?”

“Why, what should happen?” asked Fanny, staring.

Léonie shook her head dubiously.

“I think something will burst, madame. Me perhaps.”

Fanny laughed.

“What nonsense! Why, ’tis laced so loosely that it might almost fall off you! Nay, never pick your skirts up so! Oh, heaven, child, you must not show your legs! ’Tis positively indecent!”

“Bah!” said Léonie, and, gathering up her skirts, walked carefully across the room. “Certainly I shall burst,” she sighed. “I shall tell Monseigneur that I cannot wear women’s clothes. It is as though I were in a cage.”

“Don’t say you’ll—burst—again!” implored Fanny. “’Tis a most unladylike expression.”

Léonie paused in her perambulations to and fro.

“Am I a lady?” she inquired.

“Of course you are! What else?”

The roguish dimple peeped out for the first time, and the blue eyes danced.

“Well, what now? Is it so funny?” asked Fanny, a trifle peevishly.

Léonie nodded.

“But yes, madame. And—and very perplexing.” She came back to the mirror, and bowed to her own reflection. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle de Bonnard! Peste, qu’elle est ridicule!”

“Who?” demanded Fanny.

Léonie pointed a scornful finger at herself.

“That silly creature.”

“’Tis yourself.”

“No.” said Léonie with conviction. “Never!”

“You are most provoking!” cried Fanny. “I have been at pains to dress you in my prettiest gown—yes, the very prettiest, though, to be sure, it became me not—and you say ’tis silly!”

“But no, madame. It is I who am silly. Could I not keep my breeches just for to-night?”

Fanny clapped her hands to her ears.

“I positively will not listen! Don’t dare to mention that word to Edward, I implore you!”

“Edward? Bah, what a name! Who is it?”

“My husband. A dear creature, I give you my word, but I faint to think of what he would feel an you spoke of breeches in his hearing!” Fanny gave a little gurgle of laughter. “Oh, how entertaining ’twill be to buy clothes for you! I quite love Justin for bringing you to me! And whatever will Rupert say?”

Léonie withdrew her gaze from the mirror.

“That is Monseigneur’s brother, n’est-ce pas?”

“The most provoking creature,” nodded Fanny. “Quite mad, you know. But then we Alastairs are all of us that. No doubt you have observed it?”

The big eyes twinkled.

“No, madame.”

“What! And you have—have lived with Avon for three months?” Fanny cast up her eyes. The sound of a shutting door somewhere below roused her to sudden activity. “There! That is Edward returned from White’s already! I think I will go down and—and talk to him while you rest. Poor child, I dare swear you are dreadfully fatigued?”

“N-no,” said Léonie. “But you will tell Mr. Marling that I have come, is it not so? And if he does not like it—and I do not think that he will—I can——”

“Fiddle!” said Fanny, blushing faintly. “No such thing, my love, I assure you. Edward will be enchanted! Of course he will, stupid child! A pretty thing ’twould be an I could not twist him round my finger. ’Twas only that I wanted you to rest, and indeed you shall! I vow you are nigh dropping with fatigue! Don’t try to argue with me, Léonie!”

“I am not arguing,” Léonie pointed out.

“No, well, I thought you might, and it makes me so cross! Come with me, and I will take you to your chamber.” She led Léonie to a blue guest-chamber, and sighed. “Ravishing!” she said. “I wish you were not quite so lovely. Your eyes are like those velvet curtains. I got them in Paris, my dear. Are they not exquisite? I forbid you to touch your dress while I am gone, mind!” She frowned direfully, patted Léonie’s hand, and was gone in a whirl of silks and laces, leaving Léonie alone in the middle of the room.

Léonie walked to a chair, and sat down carefully, heels together, and hands demurely clasped in her lap.

“This,” she told herself, “is not very nice, I think. Monseigneur has gone away, and I could never find him in this great, horrible London. That Fanny is a fool, I think. Or perhaps she is mad, as she said.” Léonie paused to consider the point. “Well, perhaps she is just English. And Edward will not like me to be here. Mon Dieu, I suppose he will think I am just une fille de joie. That is very possible. I wish Monseigneur had not gone.” This thought occupied her mind for some moments, and led to another. “I wonder what he will think of me when he sees me? That Fanny said I was lovely. Of course that is just silly, but I think I look a little pretty.” She rose, and planted her chair down before the mirror. She frowned upon her reflection, and shook her head. “You are not Léon: that is very certain. Only one little bit of you is Léon.” She bent forward to look at her feet, shod still in Léon’s shoes. “Hélas! Only yesterday I was Léon the page, and now I am Mademoiselle de Bonnard. And I am very uncomfortable in these clothes. I think too that I am a little frightened. There is not even M. Davenant left. I shall be forced to eat pudding, and that woman will kiss me.” She heaved a large sigh. “Life is very hard,” she remarked sadly.