ave couple made nine hundred francs per annum
between them.

"One more flight!" Topinard had twice repeated since they reached the
third floor. Schmucke, engulfed in his sorrow, did not so much as know
whether he was going up or coming down.

In another minute Topinard had opened the door; but before he appeared
in his white workman's blouse Mme. Topinard's voice rang from the
kitchen:

"There, there! children, be quiet! here comes papa!"

But the children, no doubt, did as they pleased with papa, for the
oldest member of the family, sitting astride a broomstick, continued to
command a charge of cavalry (a reminiscence of the Cirque-Olympique),
the second blew a tin trumpet, while the third did its best to keep up
with the main body of the army. Their mother was at work on a theatrical
costume.

"Be quiet! or I shall slap you!" shouted Topinard in a formidable
voice; then in an aside for Schmucke's benefit--"Always have to say
that!--Here, little one," he continued, addressing his Lolotte, "this is
M. Schmucke, poor M. Pons' friend. He does not know where to go, and
he would like to live with us. I told him that we were not very
spick-and-span up here, that we lived on the sixth floor, and had only
the garret to offer him; but it was no use, he would come--"

Schmucke had taken the chair which the woman brought him, and the
children, stricken with sudden shyness, had gathered together to
give the stranger that mute, earnest, so soon-finished scrutiny
characteristic of childhood. For a child, like a dog, is wont to judge
by instinct rather than reason. Schmucke looked up; his eyes rested on
that charming little picture; he saw the performer on the tin trumpet, a
little five-year-old maiden with wonderful golden hair.

"She looks like ein liddle German girl," said Schmucke, holding out his
arms to the child.

"Monsieur will not be very comfortable here," said Mme. Topinard. "I
would propose that he should have our room at once, but I am obliged to
have the children near me."

She opened the door as she spoke, and bade Schmucke come in. Such
splendor as their abode possessed was all concentrated here. Blue
cotton curtains with a white fringe hung from the mahogany bedstead, and
adorned the window; the chest of drawers, bureau, and chairs, though all
made of mahogany, were neatly kept. The clock and candlesticks on the
chimneypiece were evidently the gift of the bankrupt manager, whose
portrait, a truly frightfu