He followed her, and held back the heavy oak door for her, and went out
into the air with her.

It was dark already, but in the square there was still the cool bright
primrose-colored evening light.

Bébée's wooden shoes went pattering down the sloping and uneven stones.
Her little gray figure ran quickly through the deep shade cast from the
towers and walls. Her dreams had drifted away. She was thinking of the
children and the cake.

"You are in such a hurry because of the cake?" said her new customer, as
he followed her.

Bébée looked back at him with a smile in her blue eyes.

"Yes, they will be waiting, you know, and there are cherries too."

"It is a grand day with you, then?"

"It is my fête day: I am sixteen."

She was proud of this. She told it to the very dogs in the street.

"Ah, you feel old, I dare say?"

"Oh, quite old! They cannot call me a child any more."

"Of course not, it would be ridiculous. Are those presents in your