el and carrots, watercress, onions,
parsnips, turnips, and ever so many things to eat that one can find in the
fields. They are not quite the same as the cultivated vegetables, but they
are good!"

"One ought to know that!"

"It was my father who taught me to know them."

Rosalie was silent for a moment, then she said:

"Would you like me to come and see you?"

"I should love to have you if you'll promise not to tell anyone where I
live," said Perrine, delightedly.

"I promise," said Rosalie, solemnly.

"Well, when will you come?"

"On Sunday I am going to see one of my aunts at Saint-Pipoy; on my way
back in the afternoon I can stop...."

Perrine hesitated for a moment, then she said amiably:

"Do better than just call; stay to dinner with me."

Rosalie, like the real peasant that she was, began to reply vaguely in
a ceremonious fashion, neither saying yes nor no; but it was quite plain
to see that she wished very much to accept the invitation. Perrine
insisted.

"Do come; I shall be so pleased," she said. "I am so lonesome."

"Well, really...." began Rosalie.

"Yes, dine with me; that is settled," said Perrine, brightly; "but you
must bring your own spoon, because I shall not have the time nor the tin
to make another one."

"Shall I bring my bread also? I can...."

"I wish you would. I'll wait for you in the gypsy's ground. You'll find
me doing my cooking."

Perrine was very pleased at the thought of receiving a guest in her own
home ... there was a menu to compose, provisions to find ... what an
affair! She felt quite important. Who would have said a few days before
that she would be able to offer dinner to a friend!

But there was a serious side. Suppose she could not find any eggs or
catch a fish! Her menu then would be reduced to sorrel soup only. What a
dinner!

But fortune favored her. On Friday evening she found some eggs. True,
they were only water-hen's eggs, and not so large as the duck's eggs,
but then she must not be too particular. And she was just as lucky with
her fishing. With a red worm on the end of her line, she managed to
catch a fine perch, which was quite sufficient to satisfy hers and
Rosalie's appetite. Yet, however, she wanted a dessert, and some
gooseberries growing under a weeping willow furnished it. True, they
were not quite ripe, but the merit of this fruit is that you can eat it
green.

When, late Sunday afternoon, Rosalie arrived at the gypsy camping
ground,