CHAPTER VII.
WINGS AND CATS.
"And all their cattish gestures plainly spoke They thought the affair they'd come upon no joke." CHARLES LAMB.
Some days went on, and nothing more was said by the children about the adventures which had so puzzled poor Hugh.

After a while he seemed to lose the wish to talk about them to little Jeanne; or rather, he began to feel as if he could not, that the words would not come, or that if they did, they would not tell what he wanted.

He thought about the strange things he had seen very often, but it was as if he had read of them rather than as if he had seen and heard them, or as if they had happened to some one else.

Whenever he saw Dudu and Houpet and the rest of the pets, he looked at them at first in a half dreamy way, wondering if they too were puzzled about it all, or if, being really fairies, they did not find anything to puzzle them! The only person (for, after all, he could often not prevent himself from looking upon all the animals as persons)--the only person who he somehow felt sure _did_ understand him, was Marcelline, and this was a great satisfaction.

She said nothing; she almost never even smiled in what Jeanne called her "funny" way; but there was just a very tiny little undersound in the tone of her voice sometimes, a little wee smile in her eyes more than on her lips, that told Hugh that, fairy or no fairy, old Marcelline knew all about it, and it pleased him to think so.
One night when Hugh was warmly tucked up in bed Marcelline came in as usual before he went to sleep to put out his light.
"There's been no moonlight for a good while Marcelline, has there ?" he said.
"No, Monsieur, there has not," said Marcelline.
"Will it be coming back soon ?" asked Hugh.
"Do you like it so much, my child ?" said the old nurse.