hiefs on their heads, and baskets on their arm, and who say:--

"Oh! the problem has been a difficult one this time."--"That grammar
lesson will never come to an end this morning!"

And when there is a sick boy in the class, they all know it; when a sick
boy is convalescent, they all rejoice. And this morning there were eight
or ten gentlemen and workingmen standing around Crossi's mother, the
vegetable-vender, making inquiries about a poor baby in my brother's
class, who lives in her court, and who is in danger of his life. The
school seems to make them all equals and friends.

NUMBER 78.

Wednesday, 8th.

I witnessed a touching scene yesterday afternoon. For several days,
every time that the vegetable-vender has passed Derossi she has gazed
and gazed at him with an expression of great affection; for Derossi,
since he made the discovery about that inkstand and prisoner Number 78,
has acquired a love for her son, Crossi, the red-haired boy with the
useless arm; and he helps him to do his work in school, suggests answers
to him, gives him paper, pens, and pencils; in short, he behaves to him
like a brother, as though to compensate him for his father's misfortune,
which has affected him, although he does not know it.

The vegetable-vender had been gazing at Derossi for several days, and
she seemed loath to take her eyes from him, for she is a good woman who
lives only for her son; and Derossi, who assists him and makes him
appear well, Derossi, who is a gentleman and the head of the school,
seems to her a king, a saint. She continued to stare at him, and seemed
desirous of saying something to him, yet ashamed to do it. But at last,
yesterday morning, she took courage, stopped him in front of a gate, and
said to him:--

"I beg a thousand pardons, little master! Will you, who are so kind to
my son, and so fond of him, do me the favor to accept this little
memento from a poor mother?" and she pulled out of her vegetable-basket
a little pasteboard box of white and gold.

Derossi flushed up all over, and refused, saying with decision:--

"Give it to your son; I will accept nothing."

The woman was mortified, and stammered an excuse:--

"I had no idea of offending you. It is only caramels."

But Derossi said "no," again, and shook his head. Then she timidly
lifted from her basket a bunch of radishes, and said:--

"Accept these at least,--they are fresh,--and carry them to your mamma."

Derossi smiled, and