Mrs. Chester had stopped to look around her.  “Whenever you move,” she said, “you’ll have to leave this delightful little garden behind; it won’t fit out of these quaint surroundings.”

“Ah!  We won’t want that any mo’!”

They pressed on.  “That ’ouse acrozz street,” said Mme. De l’Isle, “I notiz there the usual sign.”

“Ah, yes, yes!  ‘For Sale or Rent’; tha’z what always predominate’ in that poor vieux carre.  But here is my sizter.  Corinne, Mrs. Chezter, the mother of Mr. Chezter—­as you see by the image of him in the face!  I can have the boldnezz to say that, madame, biccause never in my life I di’n’ see a young man so ‘andsome like yo’ son!”

The mother blushed—­a lifelong failing.  “At home,” she said, “he’s called his father’s double.”

“Is that possible?  But tha’z the way with people.  Some people they find Aline the image of Corinne, and some of me.  Yet Corinne and me—­look!”

The four went in—­to the usual entertainment:  the solid plank walls, the fine absence of lath and plaster, Aline’s “li’l’ robe of baptism,” and the bridegroom and bride who had gone a lifetime without a change of linen.  They passed out into the rear garden and told wonderful stories of those gifted little darlings the goldfish.  Hector, unfortunately absent, had a mouth-organ, to whose strains the fishes would listen so motionless that you could see they were spellbound.  Yvonne ran back into the house to get it, but for some cause returned with nerves so shaken that the fishes would do nothing but run wildly to and fro.  Still, that was just as startling proof of their amazing whatever-it-was!

Seats were not taken in the bower.  The declining sun filled it.  Mrs. Chester moved fondly from one flower-bed to another, and while the sisters eagerly filled her hands with their choicest bloom Yvonne privately got a disturbed glance to Corinne that drew the four indoors again.  There the outside quaintness tempted Mrs. Chester at once to a front window, with Mlle. Yvonne at her side.

The front garden was not as the visitor had seen it shortly before while entering.  She turned silently away, while mademoiselle, as though surprised, cried to her sister and Mme. De l’Isle:  “Ah!  Aline she’s arrive’!  Mrs. Chezter, ’ow tha’z fortunate for us all!”

So with the other three Mrs. Chester looked out again.  Half-way up the walk stood Aline.  Her back was to the house.  Cupid was just inside the gate, and between them, closely confronting her, was a third figure—­Geoffry Chester.  The indoor company could see his face, but not its mood, so dazzling was the low sun behind him; but certainly it was not gay.  Her hand lay in his through some parting speech, but fell from it as both returned toward the gate.  Which Cupid opened—­sad irony—­for Chester, and while the child locked him out Aline came forward wrapped in sunlight.