The child, satisfied with this authorisation, descended from the threshold, and was presently lost to sight.
"You don't spoil them," said her father, smiling.
"For everything they must ask leave. That is our system. Leave is freely granted, but they must ask it."
"Oh, I don't quarrel with your system; I have no doubt it is a very good one. I sent you my daughter to see what you would make of her. I had faith."
"One must have faith," the sister blandly rejoined, gazing through her spectacles.
"Well, has my faith been rewarded? What have you made of her?"
The sister dropped her eyes a moment.
"A good Christian, monsieur."
Her host dropped his eyes as well; but it was probable that the movement had in each case a different spring.
"Yes," he said in a moment, "and what else?"
He watched the lady from the convent, probably thinking that she would say that a good Christian was everything. But for all her simplicity, she was not so crude as that. "A charming young lady—a real little woman—a daughter in whom you will have nothing but contentment."
"She seems to me very nice," said the father. "She is very pretty."
"She is perfect. She has no faults."
"She never had any as a child, and I am glad you have given her none."
"We love her too much," said the spectacled sister, with dignity. "And as for faults, how can we give what we have not? Le couvent n'est pas comme le monde, monsieur. She is our child as you may say. We have had her since she was so small."
