This was the girl who, if talk told truth, loved Dick even as Jennifer loved him, and by a better right.
"Why, no," she said hastily. "Did you want him back, Andree?"
"I gave him his name," said Andree. "Saw it in a book. It does seem like the back-parlour is empty without him."
Jennifer knew that there were a round dozen more in that back-parlour. But she understood. It is not the number which fill up a place, but the one.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "Would you like to come over and fetch him back, Andree? You can drive out with me, and I'll bring you back before dark."
Andree drew back, shy and alarmed. She was more the wild wood animal than ever. The olive oval of her face was thinner and paler, and there was a strange, deeper look in her eyes.
"I—I guess it no matter that much," she stammered. "Peut-etre you bringing him back soon."
"Well," said Jennifer artfully, "Mrs. Grange said I could keep him as long as I liked, and I don't think it would be quite civil to take him back yet. She might think I was tired of him. Of course if you run off with him that is a different matter."
"Moosta would hardly notice s'pose he back or not," said Andree, and Jennifer smothered a smile.
"Come out and see him, anyway," she said. "He calls your name, Andree. It is the only word he says."
"Ah! Mon petit!" The girl's face lighted up. "He is not to forget, the blessed one. No! Mon petit ami Rosario."
Then she recollected herself swiftly.
"Maybe I will come to-morrow—or some next day," she said, and disappeared into the dark of the side-passage again.
In the dusk of two evenings later Jennifer saw Andree haunting the shadows round Son-of-Lightning's shack, and she ran out and brought the girl in to the warm lighted room where Rosario lay before the fire, kicking blissfully on his little back. It brought Jennifer's laugh on a sob to see the girl go down on her knees and tangle her curls
