and sup with them, but he thanked her very
much, but said he must run home to Father
Mathurin's.

This time, naturally enough, Ange did not
in the least expect Jeannette would have
missed him; but hardly had he seated himself
in his own little room, and begun to eat his
apples and bread, than, Jeannette entered. Her
face was quite red with anger, and she ran up
to Ange, and shook him violently. "Where
hast been all day, thou little torment?" she
cried. " And why didst thou not come home
to thy dinner?—and where is the money
Father Mathurin gave thee to buy a cap?
Thou hast bought no cap with it, I warrant."
And Jeannette felt in Ange's empty pockets,
and drew them out triumphantly; and then
she fell to shaking Ange again, and boxed
his ears again, and took away his apples;
and all this time Ange could not think of
a single word to say to quiet her. And then
Father Mathurin's step was heard, and he
entered, and led Ange away to his own room.
And then Father Mathurin sat Ange upon
his knee, and said very gravely, "Now, Ange,
tell me the truth—where hast thou been all
day, and what hast thou done with the money
I gave thee?" But, just then Jeannette came
to say that neighbour Jacques wished to
speak with Father Mathurin, and Father
Mathurin told Jeannette to ask him to come in;
and neighbour Jacques entered, cap in hand,
and told how little Ange had brought him a
silver coin to buy a loaf, and how he had
wondered how Ange came by so much money; and
finally, how he had brought the change back
to Father Mathurin. And then Father
Mathurin told Jacques how he had given Ange
the money to buy a cap, and how Ange had
spent it to buy some bread for Madelaine and
Marguerite; for he would not have little
Ange suspected of so wicked a thing as
having stolen the money. And then neighbour
Jacques took his leave, and Father
Mathurin bade Ange good-night, and said he
was sure to sleep well, because he was a very
good boy. And Ange felt so happy, that he
thought he should never get to sleep at all;
but there he was wrong, for he was soon
fast, fast asleep, and dreaming the strangest
jumble of things imaginable.

The next morning, Father Mathurin and
Ange went to Dame Ponsard's, and there they
found poor Madelaine very, very ill; and the
doctor whom kind Dame Ponsard sent for said
it was a fever, so every one was afraid to go
near poor Madelaine for fear of infection, and
there was only little Marguerite to watch by
her and to smooth her pillow, and give her
the medicine that Dr. Maynard had sent her.
And Marguerite was a very little girl—much
younger than Ange—and so it seemed to
Ange impossible that she could do all this by
herself; and so Ange begged and prayed
to be allowed to stay and watch by his mother,
as he called Madelaine. And Ange stayed with
Madelaine, and he walked about so gently on
his tiptoes in the room, that he might not disturb
her; and he smoothed her pillow with his
soft little hand far gentler than the gentlest
nurse; and the instant she moved, he came
to give her medicine, or some tisane to
moisten her parched mouth; and he never
wearied in this labour of love.

Sometimes, when Madelaine was getting
better, when she fell asleep, Ange and
Marguerite went for a walk, and it seemed to
Ange that the birds sang clearer and flowers
smelt sweeter, and the very river danced
with a joy it had not known before; and they
gathered large bouquets of wild flowers to
decorate the sick room, and made daisy
chains as they sat to rest by the river's
side.

CHAPTER IV.

MADELAINE grew better and better; and
when she returned to health she found
she had two children to love instead
of one. And Father Mathurin agreed that
Ange should live with Madelaine and
Marguerite; and Dame Ponsard found that
Madelaine was a very good needlewoman,
and she gave her work to do, and persuaded
many of the neighbours to give her work
too: so that with what Madelaine gained and
what Ange gained they had enough to live
very comfortably; and Marguerite went to
the Sunday-school, and helped her mother
about the house on week days. And then,
when there was a market, she sold flowers,
for where they lived there was a very pretty
little garden, and Ange worked in it all his
leisure hours, and grew lovely flowers for
Marguerite to sell at the market.

Oh, how different Ange's evenings were
now!—how Marguerite's little face beamed
with joy when he came home; and what a
nice supper Madelaine always had for him!
Simple as it was, it seemed the daintiest of
food to him—they were so happy eating it
together.

Time passed on, and Ange was no longer
a very little boy; but grew to be tall and
strong and handsome and Marguerite grew
to be the neatest, prettiest little maid in all
the village.

And when Dame Ponsard's daughter
Blanche was married, all said Ange was the
handsomest youth at the wedding-dance, and
none danced so lightly or spoke so gaily as he.

And often when Marguerite went to evening
service and walked home with Ange,
they would rest together on the stone coping
of that same fountain, with the ever-murmuring
water behind them, and the sun
setting just as it did of yore; and Ange would
tell Marguerite all that he had hoped and
prayed on that same spot years before, and
how fully his dreams of happiness were
realised now; and tears of gratitude would
come into Marguerite's eyes when she
thought of all that Ange had done for them.

As the time passed on, Dame Ponsard