'It really IS true,' said Cyril; 'and I congratulate you very much.'
His tone of studied politeness seemed to convince more than the raptures of the others.
'If I do not dream,' she said, 'Henri come to Manon--and you--you shall come all with me to Mr the Curate.Is it not?'
Manon was a wrinkled old woman with a red and yellow handkerchief twisted round her head.She took Henri, who was already sleepy with the excitement of his Christmas-tree and his visitors, and when the lady had put on a stiff black cape and a wonderful black silk bonnet and a pair of black wooden clogs over her black cashmere house-boots, the whole party went down the road to a little white house--very like the one they had left--where an old priest, with a good face, welcomed them with a politeness so great that it hid his astonishment.
The lady, with her French waving hands and her shrugging French shoulders and her trembling French speech, told the story.And now the priest, who knew no English, shrugged HIS shoulders and waved HIS hands and spoke also in French.
'He thinks,' whispered the Phoenix, 'that her troubles have turned her brain.What a pity you know no French!'
'I do know a lot of French,' whispered Robert, indignantly; 'but it's all about the pencil of the gardener's son and the penknife of the baker's niece--nothing that anyone ever wants to say.'
'If _I_ speak,' the bird whispered, 'he'll think HE'S mad, too.'
'Tell me what to say.'
'Say "C'est vrai, monsieur.Venez donc voir,"' said the Phoenix;and then Robert earned the undying respect of everybody by suddenly saying, very loudly and distinctly--'Say vray, mossoo; venny dong vwaw.'
The priest was disappointed when he found that Robert's French began and ended with these useful words; but, at any rate, he saw that if the lady was mad she was not the only one, and he put on a big beavery hat, and got a candle and matches and a spade, and they all went up the hill to the wayside shrine of St John of Luz.
'Now,' said Robert, 'I will go first and show you where it is.'
So they prised the stone up with a corner of the spade, and Robert did go first, and they all followed and found the golden treasure exactly as they had left it.And every one was flushed with the joy of performing such a wonderfully kind action.
Then the lady and the priest clasped hands and wept for joy, as French people do, and knelt down and touched the money, and talked very fast and both together, and the lady embraced all the children three times each, and called them 'little garden angels,' and then she and the priest shook each other by both hands again, and talked, and talked, and talked, faster and more Frenchy than you would have believed possible.And the children were struck dumb with joy and pleasure.
'Get away NOW,' said the Phoenix softly, breaking in on the radiant dream.
So the children crept away, and out through the little shrine, and the lady and the priest were so tearfully, talkatively happy that they never noticed that the guardian angels had gone.
The 'garden angels' ran down the hill to the lady's little house, where they had left the carpet on the veranda, and they spread it out and said 'Home,' and no one saw them disappear, except little Henri, who had flattened his nose into a white button against the window-glass, and when he tried to tell his aunt she thought he had been dreaming.So that was all right.
'It is much the best thing we've done,' said Anthea, when they talked it over at tea-time.'In the future we'll only do kind actions with the carpet.'
'Ahem!' said the Phoenix.
'I beg your pardon?' said Anthea.
'Oh, nothing,' said the bird.'I was only thinking!'
