the greatest care.

"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.

The little boy's eyes grew sad.

"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
to-morrow."

"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."

"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.

My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
big loaf, whom he had supposed to be half-way home, standing stock-still
behind him.

"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" said the child.

"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
scolding."

The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.

The baker's wife went up to him and gave him a friendly tap on the
shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" said she.

"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is that that sings?"

"There is no singing," said she.

"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"

My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers
houses.

"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"

"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
They sing in the bake-house because we are lighting the oven, and they
like to see the fire."

"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"

"Yes, to be sure," said she, good-humouredly. The child's face lighted
up.

"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
it very much if you would give me a cricket."

"A cricket," said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."

"O, ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."

"Why does your