“Oui, Peppin told us all about your little adventure. So there is no use denying it, mes enfants (children),” Aloin warns. He looks at Veronique. “Cakes and candies, the discovery by Mr. Tracy, the escape in the dumbwaiter, and—let’s not forget—the chase.”
“Oh, non—just look at your clothes!” Veronique points at the two girls.
Ashamed, they look down at the floor.
“And poor Peppin nearly caught his death of a cold, in that—that spill he took in the fountain. Didn’t he, Aloin?”
Aloin nods grimly. “Elise, I never should have let you go. Didn’t you listen when I warned you to be careful? I thought you were to be trust—”
“B-b-but it’s not fair to blame her, Mr. French. Really,” Maxzyne stammers. “Stuff happens sometimes. It’s not her fault.”
“Of course we blame her,” Veronique says. “She is a mannequin and knows what is allowed and what is not! She was raised a proper French jeune fille (young girl) and knows that she is to always look her best in whatever position or window she is placed. That is her purpose, and her place is here with us. N’est-ce pas (Isn’t it), Elise?” Veronique gives her daughter a withering stare.
Elise hangs her head.
In an instant, Maxzyne understands Elise’s constricted life. How frustrating to always watch from a window but never have adventures of your own, she thinks. And I complain about the kid maximum security protection program!
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