d hunted up unknown addresses
successfully since she had come to France.

It was very hot, and for a moment she hesitated, wondering whether she
would not put off her search till another time; then she decided it was
her duty to look the boy up at once. Asking a kindly postman if he
could direct her to the address, she found that the house was in one of
the streets near the quays. Though rather a long way off, it was not
difficult to find, and once found it was not easily forgotten, for the
smells were mingled and many.

Barbara wandered down between the high old houses, looking at the
numbers--when she could see them--and finally found the one she sought.
She had not to wait long after knocking, and the door was opened by the
bath-boy himself, who stared at her in astonishment.

"Ma'm'selle?" he said doubtfully, as if uncertain whether she were a
messenger of ill omen or not.

"I have come to call," Barbara explained. "May I please come in?"

His face broadened into the familiar grin, and he shuffled down the
passage before her, wearing the same heelless list slippers that had
first attracted Barbara's attention to him in the bath-house. The room
he took her into smelt fresh and clean, and indeed was half full of
clean clothes of all descriptions.

"My mother is _blanchisseuse_," the boy said, lifting a heap of
pinafores from a chair. "I am desolated that she is out."

"Yes. Guillaume, will you please tell me why you were sent away from
the bath-house?"

Guillaume looked uncomfortable, and moved his foot in and out of his
slipper.

"Why, ma'm'selle--I was dismissed. They said it was my character, but
that is quite good. I do not drink, nor lie, nor steal; my mother was
always a good bringer up."

"Then was it because of helping the English lady to escape? Was it
that, Guillaume?" The boy swung his slipper dexterously to and fro on
his bare toes.

"It was doubtless that, ma'm'selle, for it was after the visit of the
lady she belonged to that I was dismissed. My mother warned me at the
time. 'It is unwise,' she said, 'for such as you to play thus.' But
the little English lady looked so sad."

"I _am_ sorry, Guillaume. I do wish it had not happened."

"So do we, ma'm'selle," said the boy simply, "for my mother, who is
_blanchisseuse_, has lost some customers since then, too, and I cannot
get anything here. To-morrow I go to St. Malo or Parame to try--but
they are much farther away. Yet we