the numbers as they came on her ticket, in such a way that they drew
a prize--forty dollars.

When the old woman saw it she felt such a happiness; just as she used
to feel in the old times right after the birth of a baby. She thought
of that instantly. Without saying a word to any one, she clattered
over the _banquette_ as fast as she could in her sabots, to tell the
good news to Anne Marie. But she did not go so fast as not to have
time to dispose of her forty dollars over and over again. Forty
dollars! That was a great deal of money. She had often in her mind,
when she was expecting a prize, spent twenty dollars; for she had
never thought it could be more than that. But forty dollars! A new
gown apiece, and black silk kerchiefs to tie over their heads instead
of red cotton, and the little cabin new red-washed, and soup in the
pot, and a garlic sausage, and a bottle of good, costly liniment for
Anne Marie's legs; and still a pile of gold to go under the
hearth-brick--a pile of gold that would have made the eyes of the
defunct husband glisten.

She pushed open the picket-gate, and came into the room where her
sister lay in bed.

"Eh, Anne Marie, my girl," she called in her thick, pebbly voice,
apparently made purposely to suit her rough Gascon accent; "this time
we have caught it!"

[Illustration: "THIS TIME WE HAVE CAUGHT IT!"]

"Whose ticket?" asked Anne Marie, instantly.