en years," said my father, "and then suddenly to go off and look
up this man who found you when you were a baby."

I told him that I was very surprised, and that I'd like to know about
it.

"Come near the fire then and I'll tell you all about it."

I flung the bag from my shoulders and took the chair that he offered me.
As I stretched out my legs, wet, and covered with mud, to the fire my
grandfather spat on one side, like an old cat that is annoyed.

"Don't pay any attention to him," said my father; "the old chap doesn't
like any one to sit before his fire, but you needn't mind him, if you're
cold."

I was surprised to hear any one speak like this of an old man. I kept my
legs under my chair, for I thought that attention should be paid to him.

"You are my eldest son now," said my father; "you were born a year after
my marriage with your mother. When I married there was a young girl who
thought that I was going to marry her, and out of revenge she stole you
from us when you were six months old. We searched everywhere for you but
we did not go so far as Paris. We thought that you were dead until three
months ago when this woman was dying she confessed the truth. I went
over to France at once and the police in that locality where you had
been left, told me that you had been adopted by a mason named Barberin
who lived at Chavanon. I found him and he told me that he had loaned
you to a musician named Vitalis and that you were tramping through
France. I could not stay over there any longer, but I left Barberin some
money and told him to search for you, and when he had news to write to
Greth and Galley. I did not give him my address here, because we are
only in London during the winter; the rest of the year we travel through
England and Scotland. We are peddlers by trade, and I have my own
caravans. There, boy, that is how it is you have come back to us after
thirteen years. You may feel a little timid at first because you can't
understand us, but you'll soon pick up English and be able to talk to
your brothers and sisters. It won't be long before you're used to us."

Yes, of course I should get used to them; were they not my own people?
The fine baby linen, the beautiful clothes had not spoken the truth. But
what did that matter! Affection was worth more than riches. It was not
money that I pined for, but to have affection, a family and a home.
While my father was talking to me they had set the table for supper. A
la