Everywhere and always little Pierre arrives after everybody else; he has never in his life seen the beginning of anything. This has given him a dull, resigned look.
The dinner is served; ladies and gentlemen, take your places! Therese presides. She is thoughtful and serious; the housewifely instinct is awaking in her bosom. Pierre carves valiantly. Nose in the dish and elbows above his head, he struggles to divide the leg of a chicken. Why, his feet even take their part in the tremendous effort. Mademoiselle Marthe eats elegantly, without any ado or any noise, just like a grown-up lady. Pauline is not so particular; she eats how she can and as much as she can.
Therese, now serving her guests, now one of them herself, is content; and contentment is better than joy. The little dog Gyp has come to eat up the sc.r.a.ps, and Therese thinks, as she watches him crunching the bones, that dogs know nothing of all the dainty ways that make grown-up dinners, and children"s too, so refined and delightful.