tri-color ribbon of the French flag. On the
other side lived a big man, almost bent double. He wore a leather apron,
so long and so large that it seemed to be his only garment. The woman
with the tri-color ribbons was a street singer, so the big man told her,
and no less a person than the Baroness of whom Grain-of-Salt had spoken.
Every day she left the Guillot Field with a great red umbrella and a big
stick which she stuck in the ground at the crossroads or at the end of a
bridge. She would shelter herself from the sun or the rain under her red
umbrella and sing, and then sell to the passersby copies of the songs
she sang.

As to the big man with the apron, he was a cobbler, so she learned from
the Baroness, and he worked from morning to night. He was always silent,
like a fish, and for this reason everybody called him Father Carp. But
although he did little talking he made enough noise with his hammer.

At sunset Perrine's room was ready. Her mother, as she was helped in,
looked at the flowers with surprise and pleasure.

"How good you are to your mama, darling," she murmured as she clung to
Perrine's arm.

"How good I am to myself," Perrine cried gayly, "because if I do
anything that pleases you, I am so happy."

At night they had to put the flowers outside. Then the odors of the old
house rose up terribly strong, but the sick woman did not dare complain.
What would be the use, for she could not leave the Guillot Field to go
elsewhere?

Her sleep was restless, and when the doctor came the next morning he
found her worse, which made him change the treatment, and Perrine was
obliged to go again to the druggist. This time he asked five francs to
fill out the prescription. She did not flinch, but paid bravely,
although she could scarcely breathe when she got outside the store. If
the expenses continued to increase at this rate poor Palikare would have
to be sold on Wednesday. He would have to go now anyway. And if the
doctor prescribed something else the next day, costing five francs or
more, where would she find the money?

When, with her mother and father, she had tramped over the mountains,
they had often been hungry, and more than once since they had left
Greece on their way to France they had been without food. But hunger in
the mountains and in the country was another thing--there was always the
chance that they would find some wild fruit or vegetables. But in Paris
there was no hope for those who had no m