boys.

He was very angry, and his voice and tone frightened them, so that in
the twinkling of an eye they all took flight, frightened and confused
before "Long Gaos."

Gaud, who was just returning from Paimpol, bringing home her work for
the evening, had seen all this from afar, and had recognised Granny in
the group. She eagerly rushed forward to learn what the matter was, and
what they had done to her; seeing the cat, she understood it all.
She lifted up her frank eyes to Yann, who did not look aside; neither
thought of avoiding each other now; but they both blushed deeply and
they gazed rather startled at being so near one another; but without
hatred, almost with affection, united as they were in this common
impulse of pity and protection.

The school-children had owed a grudge to the poor dead grimalkin for
some time, because he had a black, satanic look; though he was really
a very good cat, and when one looked closely at him, he was soft and
caress-inviting of coat. They had stoned him to death, and one of
his eyes hung out. The poor old woman went on grumbling, shaking with
emotion, and carrying her dead cat by the tail, like a dead rabbit.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear! my poor boy, my poor lad, if he were only here; for
sure, they'd never dared a-do it."

Tears were falling down in her poor wrinkles; and her rough blue-veined
hands trembled.

Gaud had put her cap straight again, and tried to comfort her with
soothing words. Yann was quite indignant to think that little children
could be so cruel as to do such a thing to a poor aged woman and her
pet. Tears almost came into his eyes, and his heart ached for the poor
old dame as he thought of Sylvestre, who had loved her so dearly, and
the terrible pain it would have been to him to see her thus, under
derision and in misery.

Gaud excused herself as if she were responsible for her state. "She must
have fallen down," she said in a low voice; "'tis true her dress isn't
new, for we're not very rich, Monsieur Yann; but I mended it again only
yesterday, and this morning when I left home I'm sure she was neat and
tidy."

He looked at her steadfastly, more deeply touched by that simple excuse
than by clever phrases or self-reproaches and tears. Side by side they
walked on to the Moans' cottage. He always had acknowledged her to be
lovelier than any other girl, but it seemed to him that she was even
more beautiful now in her poverty and mourning. She wore a graver look,