nothing for
two days; now she ate a half of the roll.

"You see," said Perrine, gleefully.

"Everything will be all right soon," answered her mother with a smile.

Perrine went to the house to inquire of Grain-of-Salt what steps she
should take to sell the wagon and dear Palikare.

As for the wagon, nothing was easier. Grain-of-Salt would buy it
himself; he bought everything, furniture, clothes, tools, musical
instruments ... but a donkey! That was another thing. He did not buy
animals, except pups, and his advice was that they should wait for a day
and sell it at the Horse Market. That would be on Wednesday.

Wednesday seemed a long way off, for in her excitement, and filled with
hope, Perrine had thought that by Wednesday her mother would be strong
enough to start for Maraucourt. But to have to wait like this! There was
one thing, though: With what she got for the wagon she could buy the two
dresses and the railway tickets, and if Grain-of-Salt paid them enough,
then they need not sell Palikare. He could stay at the Guillot Field and
she could send for him after they arrived at Maraucourt. Dear Palikare!
How contented he would be to have a beautiful stable to live in and go
out every day in the green fields.

But alas! Grain-of-Salt would not give one sou over fifteen francs for
the wagon.

"Only fifteen francs!" she murmured.

"Yes, and I am only doing that to oblige you. What do you think I can do
with it?" he said. He struck the wheels and the shafts with an iron bar;
then shrugged his shoulders in disgust.

After a great deal of bargaining all she could get was two francs fifty
on the price he had offered, and the promise that he would not take it
until after they had gone, so that they could stay in it all day, which
she thought would be much better for her mother than closed up in the
house.

After she had looked at the room that Grain-of-Salt was willing to rent,
she realized how much the wagon meant to them, for in spite of the pride
in which he spoke of his "Apartments," and the contempt in which he
spoke of the wagon, Perrine was heartbroken at the thought that she must
bring her dear mother to this dirty smelling house.

As she hesitated, wondering if her mother would not be poisoned from the
odor which came from the heaps of things outside, Grain-of-Salt said
impatiently:

"Hurry up! The rag pickers will be here in a moment and I'll have to get
busy."

"Does the doctor know what these room