here in my pocket--somewhere--is a letter that proves it."

The letter was from Mr. Perrin the notary. It appeared by it that Dr.
Aubertin had reminded the said Perrin of his obligations to the late
baron, and entreated him to use all his influence to keep the estate in
this ancient family.

Perrin had replied at first in a few civil lines; but his present letter
was a long and friendly one. It made both the daughters of Beaurepaire
shudder at the peril they had so narrowly escaped. For by it they now
learned for the first time that one Jaques Bonard, a small farmer,
to whom they owed but five thousand francs, had gone to the mayor and
insisted, as he had a perfect right, on the estate being put up to
public auction. This had come to Perrin's ears just in time, and he had
instantly bought Bonard's debt, and stopped the auction; not, however,
before the very bills were printed; for which he, Perrin, had paid, and
now forwarded the receipt. He concluded by saying that the government
agent was personally inert, and would never move a step in the matter
unless driven by a creditor.

"But we have so many," said Rose in dismay. "We are not safe a day."

Aubertin assured her the danger was only in appearance. "Your large
creditors are men of property, and such men let their funds lie unless
compelled to move them. The small mortgagee, the petty miser, who has,
perhaps, no investment to watch but one small loan, about which he is
as anxious and as noisy as a hen with one chicken, he is the clamorous
creditor, the harsh little egoist, who for fear of risking a crown piece
would bring the Garden of Eden to the hammer. Now we are rid of
that little wretch, Bonard, and have Perrin on our side; so there is
literally nothing to fear."

The sisters thanked him warmly, and Rose shared his hopes; and said so;
but Josephine was silent and thoughtful. Nothing more worth recording
passed that night. But the next day was the first of May, Josephine's
birthday.

Now they always celebrated this day as well as they could; and used to
plant a tree, for one thing. Dard, well spurred by Jacintha, had got
a little acacia; and they were all out in the Pleasaunce to plant it.
Unhappily, they were a preposterous time making up their feminine minds
where to have it set; so Dard turned rusty and said the park was the
best place for it. There it could do no harm, stick it where you would.

"And who told you to put in your word?" inquired Jacintha