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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
113
"So
you
do
know
some
French,"
I
said
as
I
snipped
off
poppy-heads;
"you
have
always
pretended
you
don't."
"Oh,
keep
the
poppies,
mummy,"
cried
April,
as
she
saw
them
tumbling
into
her
basket;
"if
you
picks
them
and
just
leaves
them,
then
they
ripes
and
is
good
for
such
a
many
things."
"Tell
me
about
the
diable"
I
said,
"and
you
shall
keep
the
poppies."
"He
isn't
nice,
that
diable,"
she
said,
starting
off
at
once
with
breathless
eloquence.
"Seraphine
says
there
was
one
time
a
girl
and
a
boy
who
went
for
a
walk,
and
there
were
two
ways,
and
one
way
goes
where
stones
is,
but
it
goes
to
the
lieber
Gott;
and
the
girl
went
that
way
till
she
came
to
a
door,
and
the
lieber
Gott
made
the
door
opened
and
she
went
in,
and
that's
the
Himmel."
"And
the
boy?"
"Oh,
he
was
a
naughty
boy
and
went
the
other
way
where
there
is
a
tree,
and
on
the
tree
is
written,
'Don't
go
this
way
or
you'll
be
dead,'
and
he
said,
'That
is
one
betise,'
and
did
go
in
the
way
and
got
to
the
Holle,
and
there
he
gets
whippings
when
he
doesn't
make
what
the
diable
says."
"That's
because
he
was
so
naughty,"
explained
the
May
baby,
holding
up
an
impressive
finger,
"and
didn't
want
to
go
to
the
Himmel
and
didn't
love
glory."
"All
boys
are
naughty,"
said
June,
"and
I
don't
love
them."
"Nous
allons
parler
Francais"
I
announced,
desirous
of
finding
out
whether
their
whole
stock
was
represented
by
diable
and
betise;
"I
believe
you
can
all
speak
it
quite
well."
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