n
took them home again, and there only remained in the establishment some
little unfortunates picked up on doorsteps or in out-of-the-way places,
sent from the foundling hospitals, doomed to all evil things from their
birth. As the mortality continued to increase, even these came to be
scarce, and the omnibus which had posted to the railway station would
return bouncing and light as an empty hearse. How long would the thing
last? How long would the twenty-five or thirty little ones who remained
take to die? This was what Monsieur the Director, or rather, to give
him the nickname which he had himself invented, Monsieur the
Grantor-of-Certificates-of-death Pondevez, was asking himself one
morning as he sat opposite Mme. Polge's venerable ringlets, taking a
hand in this lady's favourite game.

"Yes, my good Mme. Polge, what is to become of us? Things cannot go on
much longer as they are. Jenkins will not give way; the children are as
obstinate as mules. There is no denying it, they will all slip through
our fingers. There is the little Wallachian--I mark the king, Mme.
Polge--who may die from one moment to another. Just think, the poor
little chap for the last three days has had nothing in his stomach. It
is useless for Jenkins to talk. You cannot improve children like snails
by making them go hungry. It is disheartening all the same not to be
able to save one of them. The infirmary is full. It is really a wretched
outlook. Forty and bezique."

A double ring at the entrance gate interrupted his monologue. The
omnibus was returning from the railway station and its wheels were
grinding on the sand in an unusual manner.

"What an astonishing thing," remarked Pondevez, "the conveyance is not
empty."

Indeed it did draw up at the foot of the steps with a certain pride, and
the man who got out of it sprang up the staircase at a bound. He was
a courier from Jenkins bearing a great piece of news. The doctor would
arrive in two hours to visit the Home, accompanied by the Nabob and
a gentleman from the Tuileries. He urgently enjoined that everything
should be ready for their reception. The thing had been decided at such
short notice that he had not had the time to write; but he counted on M.
Pondevez to do all that was necessary.

"That is good!--necessary!" murmured Pondevez in complete dismay. The
situation was critical. This important visit was occurring at the worst
possible moment, just as the system had utterly broken do