Good night." He followed her, and held back the heavy oak door for her, and went out into the air with her.
It was dark already, but in the square there was still the cool bright primrose-colored evening light.
Bebee's wooden shoes went pattering down the sloping and uneven stones.
Her little gray figure ran quickly through the deep shade cast from the towers and walls.

Her dreams had drifted away.

She was thinking of the children and the cake.
"You are in such a hurry because of the cake ?" said her new customer, as he followed her.
Bebee looked back at him with a smile in her blue eyes.
"Yes, they will be waiting, you know, and there are cherries too." "It is a grand day with you, then ?" "It is my fete day: I am sixteen." She was proud of this.

She told it to the very dogs in the street.
"Ah, you feel old, I dare say ?" "Oh, quite old! They cannot call me a child any more." "Of course not, it would be ridiculous.

Are those presents in your basket ?" "Yes, every one of them." She paused a moment to lift the dead vine-leaves, and show him the beautiful shining red shoes.