ing in the pit. There were two dogs
there. Another had been thrown in, a large dog.

"Pierrot!" cried Rose. And Pierrot yelped and yelped. Then they began to
throw down some food. But each time they noticed distinctly a terrible
struggle going on, then plaintive cries from Pierrot, who had been bitten
by his companion, who ate up everything as he was the stronger.

It was in vain that they specified, saying:

"That is for you, Pierrot." Pierrot evidently got nothing.

The two women, dumfounded, looked at each other and Mme. Lefevre said in
a sour tone:

"I could not feed all the dogs they throw in there! We must give it up."

And, suffocating at the thought of all the dogs living at her expense,
she went away, even carrying back what remained of the bread, which she
ate as she walked along.

Rose followed her, wiping her eyes on the corner of her blue apron.

A NORMANDY JOKE

It was a wedding procession that was coming along the road between the
tall trees that bounded the farms and cast their shadow on the road. At
the head were the bride and groom, then the family, then the invited
guests, and last of all the poor of the neighborhood. The village urchins
who hovered about the narrow road like flies ran in and out of the ranks
or climbed up the trees to see it better.

The bridegroom was a good-looking young fellow, Jean Patu, the richest
farmer in the neighborhood, but he was above all things, an ardent
sportsman who seemed to take leave of his senses in order to satisfy that
passion, and who spent large sums on his dogs, his keepers, his ferrets
and his guns. The bride, Rosalie Roussel, had been courted by all the
likely young fellows in the district, for they all thought her handsome
and they knew that she would have a good dowry. But she had chosen Patu;
partly, perhaps, because she liked him better than she did the others,
but still more, like a careful Normandy girl, because he had more crown
pieces.

As they entered the white gateway of the husband's farm, forty shots
resounded without their seeing those who fired, as they were hidden in
the ditches. The noise seemed to please the men, who were slouching along
heavily in their best clothes, and Patu left his wife, and running up to
a farm servant whom he perceived behind a tree, took his gun and fired a
shot himself, as frisky as a young colt. Then they went on, beneath the
apple trees which were heavy with fruit, through the high grass and
th