fetch the doctor as early as possible the next morning, she had to wait
until Grain-of-Salt had risen, for she did not know what doctor to call in.
She asked him.

Certainly he knew of a good doctor! and a famous one, too! who made his
rounds in a carriage, not on foot, like doctors of no account. Dr.
Cendrier, rue Rublet, near the Church; he was the man! To find the street
she had only to follow the railway tracks as far as the station.

When he spoke of such a great doctor who made his rounds in a carriage,
Perrine was afraid that she would not have enough money to pay him, and
timidly she questioned Grain-of-Salt, not daring to ask outright what she
wanted to know. Finally he understood.

"What you'd have to pay?" he asked. "It's a lot, but it won't be more than
forty sous, and so as to make sure, you'll have to pay him in advance."

Following the directions that Grain-of-Salt gave her, she easily found the
house, but the doctor had not yet risen, so she had to wait. She sat down
on a bench in the street, outside a stable door, behind which a coachman
was harnessing a horse to a carriage. She thought if she waited there she
would be sure to catch the doctor as he left the house, and if she gave him
her forty sous he would consent to come. She was quite sure that he would
not if she had simply asked him to visit a patient who was staying in the
Guillot Field.

She waited a long time; her suspense increased at the thought that her
mother would be wondering what kept her away so long.

At last an old-fashioned carriage and a clumsy horse came out of the
stables and stood before the doctor's house. Almost immediately the
doctor appeared, big, fat, with a grey beard.

Before he could step into his carriage Perrine was beside him. She put
her question tremblingly.

"The Guillot Field?" he said. "Has there been a fight?"

"No, sir; it's my mother who is ill."

"Who is your mother?"

"We are photographers."

He put his foot on the step. She offered him her forty sous quickly.

"We can pay you," she hastened to say.

"Then it's sixty sous," said he.

She added twenty sous more. He took the money and slipped it into his
waistcoat pocket.

"I'll be with your mother in about fifteen minutes," he said.

She ran all the way back, happy, to take the good news.

"He'll cure you, mama; he's a real, real doctor!" she said,
breathlessly.

She quickly busied herself with her mother, washing her hands and face
a