d the baker woman some very bad names.

"She's a thief, a thief!" she cried. "I've never given bad money to no
one, 'cause I never take any from nobody. Be easy! She'll give that back
to me next time I pass by her shop, or I'll put the whole neighborhood
against her. I've friends at St. Denis, and we'll set her store on fire
if she don't give it up!"

Perrine finished her story.

"You was just about goin' to die," said La Rouquerie; "what was the
feelin' like?"

"At first I felt very sad," said Perrine, "and I think I must have cried
like one cries in the night when one is suffocating; then I dreamed of
Heaven and of the good food I should have there. Mama, who was waiting
for me, had made me some milk chocolate; I could smell it."

"It's funny that this heat wave, which was going to kill you, really
was the cause of yer bein' saved. If it hadn't been for this darned heat
I never should have stopped to let that donkey rest in this wood, and
then he wouldn't have found yer. What cher goin' to do now?"

"Go on my way."

"And tomorrow? What yer got to eat? One's got to be young like you to
take such a trip as this."

"But what could I do?"

La Rouquerie gravely took two or three puffs at her pipe. She was
thoughtful for a moment; then she said:

"See here, I'm goin' as far as Creil, no farther. I'm buyin' odds and
ends in the villages as I go along. It's on the way to Chantilly, so you
come along with me. Now yell out a bit if you've got the strength:
'Rabbit skins! Rags and bones to sell!'"

Perrine straightened herself and cried out as she was told.

"That's fine! You've got a good, clear voice. As I've got a sore throat,
you can do the calling out for me, so like that you'll earn your grub.
When we get to Creil I know a farmer there who goes as far as Amiens to
get eggs and things. I'll ask him to take you in his cart. When you get
to Amiens you can take the train to where yer relations hang out."

"But what with? How can I take a train?"

"I'll advance you the five francs that I'm goin' to get back from that
baker. I'll get it! So I'll give yer five francs for your fare."

CHAPTER VII

MARAUCOURT AT LAST

Things came to pass as La Rouquerie had arranged. For eight days Perrine
ran through the streets of the villages and towns crying out: "Rabbit
skins! Rags! Bones!"

"You've got a voice that would make yer famous for this here business,"
said La Rouquerie admiringly, as Perrine's clear tr