yer somewhere," she said at last.

"It was I who sold you Palikare," said Perrine.

"Why, sure it's you, little one, but what in Heaven's name are you doin'
here?"

Perrine could not reply. She was so giddy her head whirled. She had been
sitting up, but now she was obliged to lie down again, and her pallor
and tears spoke for her.

"What's the matter? Are you sick?" demanded La Rouquerie.

Although Perrine moved her lips as though to speak, no sound came. Again
she was sinking into unconsciousness, partly from emotion, partly from
weakness.

But La Rouquerie was a woman of experience; she had seen all miseries.

"The kid's dying of hunger," she muttered to herself.

She hurried over the road to a little truck over the sides of which
were spread out some dried rabbit skins. The woman quickly opened a box
and took out a slice of bread, a piece of cheese and a bottle. She
carried it back on the run.

Perrine was still in the same condition.

"One little minute, girlie; one little minute," she said encouragingly.

Kneeling down beside little Perrine, she put the bottle to her lips.

"Take a good drink; that'll keep you up," she said.

True, the good drink brought the blood back to her cheeks.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes," murmured Perrine.

"Well, now you must eat, but gently; wait a minute."

She broke off a piece of bread and cheese and offered it to her.

"Eat it slowly," she said, advisedly, for already Perrine had devoured
the half of what was handed to her. "I'll eat with you, then you won't
eat so fast."

Palikare had been standing quietly looking on with his big soft eyes.
When he saw La Rouquerie sit down on the grass beside Perrine, he also
knelt down beside them.

"The old rogue, he wants a bite, too," said the woman.

"May I give him a piece?" asked Perrine.

"Yes, you can give him a piece or two. When we've eaten this there is
more in the cart. Give him some; he is so pleased to see you again, good
old boy. You know he _is_ a good boy."

"Yes, isn't he a dear?" said Perrine, softly.

"Now when you've eaten that you can tell me how you come to be in these
woods pretty near starved to death. Sure it'd be a pity for you to kick
the bucket yet awhile."

After she had eaten as much as was good for her, Perrine told her story,
commencing with the death of her mother. When she came to the scene she
had had with the baker woman at St. Denis, the woman took her pipe from
her mouth and calle