And so far all had gone charmingly. Aunty had proved to be all that could be wished of aunty-kind, and grandmother promised more than fairly.
"What _would_ we have done if she had been very tall and stout, and fierce-looking, with spectacles and a hookey nose?" thought Molly, and as the thought struck her, she left off eating, and sat with wide open eyes, staring at her grandmother.
Though grandmother did not in general wear spectacles--only when reading very small print, or busied with some peculiarly fine fancywork--nothing ever seemed to escape her notice.
"Molly, my dear, what are you staring at so? Is my cap crooked?" she said. Molly started.
"Oh no, grandmother dear," she replied. "I was only thinking----" she stopped short, jumped off her seat, and in another moment was round the table with a rush, which would have been sadly trying to most grandmothers and aunties, only fortunately these special ones were not like most!
"What is the matter, dear?" grandmother was beginning to exclaim, when she was stopped by feeling two arms hugging her tightly, and a rather bread-and-buttery little mouth kissing her valorously.
"Nothing's the matter," said Molly, when she stopped her kisses, "it only just came into my head when I was looking at you, how nice you were, you dear little grandmother, and I thought I'd like to kiss you. I don't want you to have a gold-headed stick, but I do want one thing, and then you _would_ be quite perfect. Oh, grandmother dear," she went on, clasping her hands in entreaty, "just tell me this, _do_ you ever tell stories?"
Grandmother shook her head solemnly. "I _hope_ not, my dear child," she said, but Molly detected the fun through the solemnity. She gave a wriggle.
"Now you're laughing at me," she said. "You _know_ I don't mean that kind. I mean do you ever tell real stories--not real, I don't mean, for very often the nicest aren't real, about fairies, you know--but you know the sort of stories I mean. You would look so beautiful telling stories, wouldn't she now, Sylvia?"
"And the stories would be beautiful if I told them--eh, Molly?"
"Yes, I am sure they would be. _Will_ you think of some?"
"We'll see," said grandmother. "Anyway there's no time for stories at present. You have ever so much to think of with all the travelling that is before you. Wait till we get to Châlet, and then we'll see."