“Leave her with me,” urged Peggy Morrison, “and the rest of you go with Colonel Menard.  I’ll manage her.  She will be ready to jump out of the window into the next boat that comes along.”

“We cannot leave her, Peggy, and we cannot leave you.  I am responsible to your father for your safety.  I will put you and my family into the boat, and stay with her myself.”

“Angelique will not leave me!” cried the little voice among the screens.

“Are you ready to lower them?” called Colonel Menard.

Captain Saucier went again to the window, his wife and daughter and Peggy with him.

“I could not leave her,” said Angelique to Peggy.  They stood behind the father and mother, who told their trouble across the sill.

“That spoiled old woman needs a good shaking,” declared Peggy.

“Poor little tante-gra’mere.  It is a dreadful thing, Peggy, to be a child when you are too old for discipline.”

“Give my compliments to madame, and coax her,” urged Colonel Menard.  “Tell her, if she will let herself be lowered to me, I will pledge my life for her safety.”

The two children stood huddled together, waiting, large-eyed and silent, while their elders kneeled around the immovable invalid.  Peggy laughed at the expectant attitudes of the pleaders.

“Tante-gra’mere has now quite made up her mind to go,” Madame Saucier announced over and over to her family and to Peggy, and to the slaves at the partition door, all of whom were waiting for the rescue barred from them by one obstinate little mummy.

But these hopeful assertions were wasted.  Tante-gra’mere had made up her mind to stay.  She held to her whip, and refused to be touched.  Her fixed decree was announced to Colonel Menard.  He asked for the women and children of the family in haste.  He and his man were wasting time and strength holding the boat against the waves.  It was in danger of being swamped.

Angelique stood deferentially before her father and asked his permission to stay with his grand-aunt.  In the same deferential manner she asked permission of her mother.  Madame Saucier leaned on her husband’s shoulder and wept.  It was plain that the mother must go with her two young children only.  Peggy said she would not leave Angelique.

“Monsieur the colonel,” spoke Angelique again into the windy darkness, “we are not worth half the trouble you are taking for us.  I wonder you do not leave such ridiculous people to drown or get out as we can.  But my tante-gra’mere is so old; please forgive her.  My mother and the children are quite ready.  I wish poor Mademoiselle Zhone were with you, too.”

“I will fetch Mademoiselle Zhone out of her house before madame and the children get in,” said Pierre Menard promptly.  “As for the delay, it is nothing, mademoiselle; we must get you all to land as we can.”

“Monsieur, will it not be dangerous?  I thought of her because she is so sick.  But there is foam everywhere; and the trees are in your way.”