ed out of himself by this impulsive
good-nature, was at first embarrassed, then stupefied. He was unable
to utter a word. He was ashamed of his own weakness; he was
overwhelmed by the sense of her impetuous good-will and practical
human sympathy. He silently pressed the thin hand which had
unconsciously crept into his.

"No, it is nothing," she said, lightly, withdrawing her hand. "I have
plenty to-day,--you will have it some other day; and then you can give
me a petit souper, monsieur, n'est-ce pas?"

"Very well. On that condition I will accept your invitation,
mademoiselle. We will dine with petite Poupon."

He had not the heart to tell her that his "nothing" meant a few
hundred francs to his credit and a few louis in his pocket at that
moment,--more than she had ever possessed at any one time in her life.

As it was, she walked along by his side with that feeling of
camaraderie experienced by those in the same run of luck as to the
world's goods, and with that buoyancy of spirit which attends a good
action. The few francs and odd sous in the little purse were abundant
for to-day,--the morrow could take care of itself.

They turned up the narrow Rue Royer-Collard, where she stopped for the
litre of Bordeaux, responding gayly to the wayside queries and
comments. Reaching the Rue St. Jacques, there were the salad and the
cheese to add to the necessary part of the French meal; and the bit of
beef and the inevitable onions brought up the rear of purchases.

"I have some potatoes and carrots," she said, reflectively,--"so much
saved. Let us see. It is not so bad,--quatre-vingt-cinq, dix,
cinquante,--un franc quarante-cinq."

She made the calculation as they went up the worn stairway after the
passage of the tunnel.

"Not half bad," said he, compelled to admire her cleverness.

Reaching her chamber, she deposited the entire evening investment on
the hearth, proceeding to the preliminary features of preparation. She
threw her hat on the bed, then pulled off the light bolero and sent it
after the hat, and then she began slipping out of her skirt by
suddenly letting it fall in a ring about her feet.

"Oh!" said Jean.

"Excuse me, will you? I can't risk my pretty skirt for appearances.
You won't mind, monsieur? Non!"

"That's right," he said,--"a skirt is only a skirt."

He watched her with a half-amused expression as she flitted nervously
about, more doll-like than ever she was, in the short yellow silken
pett