gathered round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the
cause of his tears.

"It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries," said a mason, who
was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; "the servant
who took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to
wait for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made
him more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find
his way home."

"Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?"

"They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that
he is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval--there are
twelve hundred Duvals in Paris."

"Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?"

"I should not think, indeed! Don't you see that he is a gentleman's
child? He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he
does not know what to do by himself."

Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the
others.

"We cannot leave him in the street," said some.

"The child-stealers would carry him off," continued others.

"We must take him to the overseer."

"Or to the police-office."

"That's the thing. Come, little one!"

But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the
names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the
parapet. In vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist
the more, and the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a
little boy was heard through the confusion.

"I know him well--I do," said he, looking at the lost child; "he belongs
in our part of the town."

"What part is it?"

"Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards--Rue des Magasins."

"And you have seen him before?"

"Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where
there is an iron gate with gilt points."

The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy
answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details
as left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went
up to him as if to put himself under his protection.

"Then you can take him to his parents?" asked the mason, who had
listened with real interest to the little boy's account.

"I don't care if I do," replied he; "it's the way I'm going."

"Then you will take charge of him?"

"He has only to come with me."

And, taking up the basket h