“So they will,” cried François. “Ah, and I like my new cravat ever so much the better, Sister Calabash, now you have told me that the children at the kilns will be so mad with me for being smarter than they; don’t you, Amandine?”
“No, François, I don’t find that makes any difference. But I am quite glad I have got such a nice new prettymarmotte as that will make, all the same.”
“Go along with you, you little mean-spirited thing!” cried Calabash, disdainfully; “you have not a grain of proper pride in you.” Then, snatching from the table a morsel of bread and cheese, she thrust them into the children’s hands, saying, “Now, get off to bed,—there is a lanthorn; take care you don’t set fire to anything, and be sure to put it out before you go to sleep.”
“And hark ye,” added Nicholas, “rememb
