oof that she could reckon up to one hundred.

Arrived home, she cooked her limpets, gave twenty to each of her
cats, and reserved sixty for herself.

A proof that she had gastronomic tendencies.

There was but one young man to whom she spoke freely.

One evening, this man tumbled near her doorstep. He was intoxicated.
She took him inside, laid him on her own bed, and when he had slept
and sobered, she gave him a cup of tea and escorted him to his home.
Ever since, they had been friends.

This man's name was Tom Soher.

We have seen that an idea had struck him which he intended to carry
out. He, too, believed in Mrs. Vidoux's power of bewitching.

So the day following his unpleasant discovery, Tom Soher directed
his steps towards the old woman's cottage.

He knocked at the door. No one answered. "She must be in the
garden," he said to himself. He accordingly went round the back of
the house and espied her, laboriously occupied in trying to dig a
few parsnips.

"Good morning, Mrs. Vidoux," he said; then perceiving her useless
efforts, he took the spade from her bony hands, and dug up a few of
the esculent roots.

"Thank you very much," said the old woman, leaning heavily on her
walking-stick.

"I wonder, why she, who possesses such magic powers, does not make
those parsnips fly out of the ground without even touching them,"
thought Tom.

Then a conversation followed between them.

"It's fine weather," said Tom, feeling embarrassed about the
introduction of his subject.

"Beautiful."

"You have a great deal of trouble to work as you do, cultivating
your own vegetables?"

"Yes, but I cannot afford to buy some."

"Don't you feel lonely at times?"

"No, I am accustomed to solitude."

"You did me a good turn once."

"I am glad of it."

"Yes, I shall always remember it."

"I am happy to see that you don't forget, you are the only sensible
man in this parish."

"That's praising me rather too much, I'm sure I don't deserve it,
but what I think I deserve less is the nasty fix in which I now am."

"You are in a fix?"

"You know my cousin, Adele Rougeant?"

"Miss Rougeant, let me see--oh--yes, I knew her once, but I am
afraid I should not recognise her now, she must be a fine lady by
this time."

"Fine; she's simply charming."

"I should think so; I don't doubt you at all, Mr. Soher."

"There is a young man who is paying his attentions to her."

"He is very fortunate."

"That does not sui