dren, and had lost three boys of her
own when they were mere babies. She came to the opinion that the chit
she had found "was far too wide awake to kick the bucket," and so she
adopted her.

One evening, however, as she was going off home with her right hand
clasping Cadine's, Marjolin came up and unceremoniously caught hold of
her left hand.

"Nay, my lad," said the old woman, stopping, "the place is filled. Have
you left your big Therese, then? What a fickle little gadabout you are!"

The boy gazed at her with his smiling eyes, without letting go of her
hand. He looked so pretty with his curly hair that she could not resist
him. "Well, come along, then, you little scamp," said she; "I'll put you
to bed as well."

Thus she made her appearance in the Rue au Lard, where she lived, with
a child clinging to either hand. Marjolin made himself quite at home
there. When the two children proved too noisy the old woman cuffed them,
delighted to shout and worry herself, and wash the youngsters, and pack
them away beneath the blankets. She had fixed them up a little bed in
an old costermonger's barrow, the wheels and shafts of which had
disappeared. It was like a big cradle, a trifle hard, but retaining a
strong scent of the vegetables which it had long kept fresh and cool
beneath a covering of damp cloths. And there, when four years old,
Cadine and Marjolin slept locked in each other's arms.

They grew up together, and were always to be seen with their arms about
one another's waist. At night time old Mother Chantemesse heard them
prattling softly. Cadine's clear treble went chattering on for hours
together, while Marjolin listened with occasional expressions of
astonishment vented in a deeper tone. The girl was a mischievous young
creature, and concocted all sorts of stories to frighten her companion;
telling him, for instance, that she had one night seen a man, dressed
all in white, looking at them and putting out a great red tongue, at
the foot of the bed. Marjolin quite perspired with terror, and anxiously
asked for further particulars; but the girl would then begin to jeer at
him, and end by calling him a big donkey. At other times they were
not so peaceably disposed, but kicked each other beneath the blankets.
Cadine would pull up her legs, and try to restrain her laughter as
Marjolin missed his aim, and sent his feet banging against the wall.
When this happened, old Madame Chantemesse was obliged to get up to put
th