u a hand? You've been better since--isn't that so?"
The tailor did not answer.

"But I can't go on as we are, though I want only enough to keep me
going," Charley continued.

"And if I don't give you what you want, you'll leave?"

"No. I'm never going to leave you. I'm going to stay here, for you'll
never get another man so cheap; and it suits me to stay--you need some
one to look after you."

A curious soft look suddenly flashed into the tailor's eyes.

"Will you take on the business after I'm gone?" he asked at last. "It's
along time to look ahead, I know," he added quickly, for not in words
would he acknowledge the possibility of the end.

"I should think so," Charley answered, his eyes on the bright sun and
the soft snow on the trees beyond the window.

The tailor snatched up a pattern and figured on it for a moment. Then he
handed it to Charley. "Will that do?" he asked with anxious, acquisitive
look, his yellow eyes blinking hard.

Charley looked at it musingly, then said "Yes, if you give me a room
here."

"I meant board and lodging too," said Louis Trudel with an outburst of
eager generosity, for, as it was, he had offered about one-half of what
Charley was worth to him.

Charley nodded. "Very well, that will do," he said, and took off his
coat and went to work. For a long time they worked silently. The tailor
was in great good-humour; for the terrible trial was over, and he now
had an assistant who would be a better tailor than himself. There would
be more profit, more silver nails for the church door, and more masses
for his soul.

"The Cure says you are all right.... When will you come here?" he said
at last.

"To-morrow night I shall sleep here," answered Charley.

So it was arranged that Charley should come to live in the tailor's
house, to sleep in the room which the tailor had provided for a wife
twenty-five years before--even for her that was now known as Madame
Dauphin.

All morning the tailor chuckled to himself. When they sat down at noon
to a piece of venison which Charley had prepared himself--taking the
frying-pan out of the hands of Margot Patry, the old servant, and
cooking it to a turn--Louis Trudel saw his years lengthen to an
indefinite period. He even allowed himself to nervously stand up, bow,
shake Charley's hand jerkingly, and say:

"M'sieu', I care not what you are or where you come from, or even if
you're a Protestant, perhaps an Englishman. You're a gentleman and a