CHAPTER VII.
GRANDMOTHER'S GRANDMOTHER.
"I'll tell you a story of Jack-o-my-nory, And now my story's begun.
I'll tell you another of Jack and his brother, And now my story's done." OLD NURSERY RHYME.
Marie's story was the subject of much conversation among the children.
Sylvia announced her intention of writing it down.
"She tells it so nicely," she said.

"I could have written it down beautifully while she was talking, if she would have waited." "She would not have been able to tell it so nicely if she had known you were waiting to write down every word as she said it," remarked grandmother.

"At least in her place I don't think _I_ could." A shriek from Molly here startled them all, or perhaps I should say, _would_ have done so, had they been less accustomed to her eccentric behaviour.
"What is the matter now, my dear ?" said aunty.
"Oh," said Molly, gasping with eagerness, "grandmother's saying that _reminded_ me." "But what about, my dear child ?" "About telling stories; don't you remember grandmother _dear_, I said you would be _perfect_ if you would tell us stories, and you didn't say you wouldn't." "And what's more, grandmother promised me one," said Ralph.
"_Did_ I, my dear boy ?" "Yes, grandmother," said Ralph, looking rather abashed, "don't you remember, grandmother--the day I called Prosper de Lastre a cad?
I don't think he's a cad now," he added in a lower voice.
"Ah yes, I remember now," said grandmother.

"But do you know, my dears, I am so sorry I cannot find your Uncle Jack's manuscript.

He had written it out so well--all I can find is the letter in which he first alluded to the incident, very shortly.