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    Mère Giraud's Little Daughter
    Mère Giraud's Little Daughter
    Mère Giraud's Little Daughter
    Ebook47 pages31 minutes

    Mère Giraud's Little Daughter

    By Frances Hodgson Burnett

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Mère Giraud's Little Daughter
    Author

    Frances Hodgson Burnett

    Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849–1924) grew up in England, but she began writing what was to become The Secret Garden in 1909, when she was creating a garden for a new home in Long Island, New York. Frances was a born storyteller. Even as a young child, her greatest pleasure was making up stories and acting them out, using her dolls as characters. She wrote over forty books in her lifetime.

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      Book preview

      Mère Giraud's Little Daughter - Frances Hodgson Burnett

      Project Gutenberg's Mère Girauds Little Daughter, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Mère Girauds Little Daughter

      Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett

      Release Date: November 4, 2007 [EBook #23326]

      Last Updated: November 30, 2012

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MÈRE GIRAUDS LITTLE DAUGHTER ***

      Produced by David Widger

      MÈRE GIRAUDS LITTLE DAUGHTER

      By Frances Hodgson Burnett

      Copyright, 1877

      Prut! said Annot, her sabots clattering loudly on the brick floor as she moved more rapidly in her wrath. Prut! Madame Giraud, indeed! There was a time, and it was but two years ago, that she was but plain Mere Giraud, and no better than the rest of us; and it seems to me, neighbors, that it is not well to show pride because one has the luck to be favored by fortune. Where, forsooth, would our 'Madame' Giraud stand if luck had not given her a daughter pretty enough to win a rich husband?

      True, indeed! echoed two of the gossips who were her admiring listeners. True, beyond doubt. Where, indeed?

      But the third, a comely, fresh-skinned matron, who leaned against the door, and knitted a stout gray stocking with fast-clashing needles, did not acquiesce so readily.

      Well, well, neighbors, she said, for my part, I do not see so much to complain of. Mère Giraud—she is still Mère Giraud to me—is as honest and kindly a soul as ever. It is not she who has called herself Madame Giraud; it is others who are foolish enough to fancy that good luck must change one's old ways. If she had had the wish to be a grand personage, would she not have left our village before this and have joined Madame Legrand in Paris. On the contrary, however, she remains in her cottage, and is as good a neighbor as ever, even though she is fond of talking of the carriages and jewels of Madame Legrand and her establishment on the Boulevard Malesherbes. In fact, I ask you, who of us would not rejoice also to be the mother of a daughter whose fortune had been so good?

      That also is true, commented the amiable couple, nodding their white-capped heads with a sagacious air. True, without doubt.

      But Annot replied with a contemptuous shrug of her shoulders:—

      Wait until Madame Giraud is invited to visit the Boulevard Malesherbes, she said. We have not heard that this has happened yet.

      "She would' not go if she were, at least

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