Baby ventured to peep round. The little black-eyed, white-capped man came towards them smiling.

"Bon jour, Mademoiselle, bon jour, Monsieur Bebe," he said, looking quite pleased. And then he stroked down the ruffled feathers of the poor chickens, and held them out to the two children, chattering away at a great rate in Baby's "lubbish talk," hardly a word of which they understood.

"Can he be wanting to sell the chickens?" said Denny.

The cook, who had before this lived with families from England, understood the children's language better than they did his, which, however, is not saying a great deal.

"Yes, Mees, pairfectly," he said. "Me sell zem at ze marche the morning.

Fine poulets, goot poulets, not yet strong--wait one, two, 'ree days--be strong for one grand dinner for Madame."

"Who are you? What's your name, please?" said Denny, still a little alarmed.

"Jean-Georges, Mademoiselle," said the little man, with a bow.

"Jean-Georges compose charming plates for Mademoiselle and Monsieur Bebe. Jean-Georges loves little messieurs and little 'demoiselles.

Madame permit Monsieur and Mademoiselle visit Jean-Georges in his cuisine one day."

Denny caught the word "cuisine," which, of course, children, you will know means "kitchen."

"He's the cook, Baby," she said, with great relief; "don't you remember grandfather said he must have a man cook? Good morning, Mr. Cook, we'll ask mother to let us go and see you one day in your kitchen, and you must make us very nice things to eat, please Mr. Cook."

"Pairfectly, Mademoiselle," said Jean-Georges, with as magnificent a bow as he could manage, considering the two chickens in his arms, and then he walked away.

"What a _very_ nice man!" said Denny, feeling very proud of herself, and quite forgetting that she, too, had not been without some fears. "You see, Baby dear, how foolish it is to be frightened. I _told_ you there couldn't be any ogres here."

Herr Baby did not answer for a moment. He had certainly very much admired Denny's courage, but still he wasn't quite sure that she had not been a _very_ little afraid, just for a minute, when he had called out "There he is!"

"What would you have done if there _had_ been a' ogre, Denny?" he said.

"Oh, bother," said Denny, "what's the good of talking about things that _couldn't_ be? Talk of something sensible, Baby."

Baby grew silent again. They walked on slowly down the garden path.

"Denny," said Baby, in a minute or two, "didn't the little man say somefin about mother having a party?"

Denny p.r.i.c.ked up her ears at this. Parties of all kinds pleased her very much.

"Did he?" she said, "I didn't notice. He said something about Madame's dinner, but I didn't think he meant a dinner-_party_. Perhaps he did though. We'll ask. I'd like mother to have some parties; it seems quite a long time since I had one of my best frocks on to come down to the drawing-room before dinner, the way we did at home. And I know mother and auntie have friends here. I heard that stupid little footman asking Linley what day 'Miladi' would 'receive,' that means have visitors, Baby."

Denny's tongue had run on so fast, that it had left Baby's wits some way behind. They had stopped short at the first idea of a party.

"Mother likes to make _werry_ pitty dinners when she has parties," he said. "Mother told him that were why she were so solly when him breaked her's pitty gla.s.ses."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Baby," said Denny. "Let's have a race. I'll give you a start."

CHAPTER VII.

BABY'S SECRET

"'p.u.s.s.y, only you I'll tell, For you can keep secrets well; Promise, p.u.s.s.y, not a word.'

p.u.s.s.y reared her tail and purred."

There was a cat at the Villa Desiree, Baby's, and Denny's, and "all of them's house," as Baby would have called it. Where the cat came from I don't know--whether it belonged to the villa and let itself out with it every winter, like the furniture, or whether it was really the cat of Madame Jean-Georges, and had followed Monsieur Jean-Georges back one evening when he had been home to see his "good friend" (that was what he called his wife), and his two "bebes," is what I cannot tell. I only know the cat was there, and that when Baby could get a chance of playing with it he was very pleased. He didn't often have a chance, in his own room, for "Mademoiselle," as Celia was always called by the new servants, a t.i.tle which she thought much nicer than "Miss Aylmer," or "Miss Celia," _Mademoiselle_, said "the stupid little footman," had given strict orders that "Minet" was not to be allowed upstairs for fear of the "pets," the "calanies," and the Bully, and Peepy-Snoozle, and Tim, all of whom would have been very much to Minet's taste, I fear. It was very funny to see the way the little footman went "shoo-ing" at the poor cat the moment Celia appeared, for Celia had rather grand manners for her age, and the servants thought her very "distinguished,"

especially the stupid little footman. But Herr Baby was very sorry for poor Minet; he had no particular pet of his own here, nothing to make up for his "labbits," and so he took a great fancy to the p.u.s.s.y.

"Poor little 'weet darling," he would call it; "Celia's a c'uel girl to d'ive Minet away, _Minet_ wouldn't hurt the calanies, or the Bully, or the sleepy-mouses; Minet is far too good."

"Pray, how do _you_ know, Baby?" Celia would say. "Cats are cats all the world over, every one knows that."

"_Minet_ aren't," Baby would have it, "Minet has suts a kind heart. Him asked Minet if her would hurt the calanies and the sleepy-mouses, and her said 'no, sairtingly not.'"

"Baby!" said Denny, "what stories! Cats can't talk. You shouldn't tell stories."

"Minet can talk," said Baby. "When him asks for somefin, her says 'proo-proo-oo,' and that means 'yes,' and if her means 'no,' her humps up her back and s'akes her tail. When him asked Minet if her would like to hurt the calanies, her humped up her back _never_ so high, and sook and _sook_ her tail, for no, _no_, NO!"

Celia could not find an answer to this. Baby went on stroking Minet with great satisfaction, as if there was nothing more to be said.

"All the same," said Celia at last, "I don't want Minet to come upstairs. She's quite as happy downstairs, and, you see, it would _frighten_ the birds and the dormice if they saw her, for _they_ mightn't understand that she wouldn't, on any account, hurt them."

"Werry well," said Baby, and he went on playing with his new pet.

"Herr Baby," said Lisa coming into the room a moment or two later; "mine child, how is it that your coat is so dirty? All green, Herr Baby, as if you had rubbed it on the wet gra.s.s."

"It's with his poking in among the bushes by the kitchen window," said Denny of the ready tongue; "yesterday, you know, Baby, when you thought----"

"Hush," said Baby, "don't talk to me. You distairb me and the cat--we'se busy."

Denny and Lisa looked at each other and smiled.

"p.u.s.s.y, pitty p.u.s.s.y, dear Minet," went on Baby, who wanted to stop Denny's account of his fears.

"We're going out, Herr Baby," said Lisa. "There are commissions for your lady mamma. We are to go to the patissier and----"

"Who are the pattyser?" said Baby.

"The c.u.mfectioner," said Denny.

Baby p.r.i.c.ked up his ears.

"We are to go to the patissier," said Lisa, "to order some cakes for Miladi for to-morrow, when Miladi's friends come to dine; and perhaps we will buy some little cake for Herr Baby's tea. Come, mine child, leave Minet, and come."

Herr Baby got up from the corner of the room where he had been embracing the cat; there was a grave look on his face, but he did not say anything till he was out on the road with Lisa. Denny was not with them; she had got leave to go a walk with Celia and the lady who came every day to give her French lessons, which Denny thought much more grand than going out with Baby and Lisa.

"Lisa," said Baby, after a few minutes, "are mother going to have a party?"

"Not one very big party," said Lisa, "just some Miladis and some Herren--some genkelmen--to dine."