The little Comtesse stared in some astonishment at the doctor's motor-car, at _la belle_ grand'mère's tearful face and at the confusion which seemed to surround the hitherto peaceful place.
"Oh, grand'mère," she exclaimed. "I have sold three thousand francs worth of goods for thee this morning. _Oui, très vrai_, with my own skill I did it! I would not look at Lady Hébé nor at Lady Dorothy, the ugly stuck-up things that they are. But I attended to the wives of the farmers and they paid cash down, grand'mère, and they are going to Paris all three of them in their new chapeaux and robes and fans. Ah, but I made the stout one look slim and the slim one a little _grosse, n'est ce pas_? And the whole of them elegant. And Dorothy and Hébé were fluttering round waiting for my judgment, but grand'mère, I gave it not. I would not speak to them; they offended me. I gave them my back, grand'mère."
"But thou hast injured thy grandpère," said the poor little Comtesse. "That Dorothy is wicked, and has had her revenge. She found _mon_ Alphonse in the garden with the peaches and the bees, and she told him all about thee, _ma petite_. He fell in a swoon, his horror was great, but the _chères abeilles_ have stung her well."
"And thou art weeping when I have made three thousand francs for thee," said little Margot. "I will go straight to grandpère and set him right."
"Let the little one have her way, she has the genius," said the doctor.
"You keep away, grand'mère; let me go alone to _mon_ grandpère," said Margot. And she ran in the direction of the _salon_ with the couch of down.
Margot had a very gentle way of speaking, few things put her seriously out, and she was more pleased than otherwise at grandpère learning the truth. He was lying very still on his sofa; his face was white and a tear or two trickled down his withered cheeks.
"Thou art not like The Desmond, grandpère," said little Margot. "The Desmond would not mind anything so trifling as a shop."
"Ah, _ma petite, ma petite_," exclaimed the old Comte, and now he burst into floods of tears.
Margot knelt by him and wiped his tears away very gently.
"That flow of tears will give thee relief," she said. "Thou wilt be better, ah, better! Let me arrange _pour vous_, grandpère. I like putting the mighty from their seats. Oh, grandpère, I have such a beautiful story to tell thee!"