and it was evidently a relief to Marie to pour out her little tale in a
sympathetic ear,--many others. La Patronne, the wife of Le Boss, who
was like a barrel, but not bad, when she could see through the fat, not
bad in every way; and there was Old Billy, who took care of the horses
and dogs, and he was her friend, and she loved him, and he had always
the good word for her even when he was very drunk, too drunk to speak
to any one else. And then there was the daughter of Le Boss, who would
in all probability never die, for she was so ugly that she would not be
admitted into the other world, where, Mere Jeanne said, even Monsieur
the Great Devil himself was good-looking, save for his expression.
Also there were the boys who tumbled and rode on the ponies,
and--and--and ozer people. And with this Mane's head dropped forward,
and she was asleep.

It seemed a pity to wake her when supper was ready, but Abby knew just
how good her rolls were, and knew that the child must be famished; and
sure enough, after a little nap, Marie was ready to wake and sit up at
the little round table, and be fed like a baby with everything good
that Abby could think of. The fare had not been dainty in the
travelling troupe of Le Boss. The fine white bread, the golden butter,
the bit of broiled fish, smoking hot, seemed viands of paradise to the
hungry girl. She laughed for pleasure, and her eyes shone like stars.
It was like the chateau, she said, where everything was gold and
silver,--the chateau where Madame la Comtesse lived. As for Abby
herself, Marie gravely informed her that she was an angel. Abby
laughed, not ill pleased. "I don't look special like angels," she
said; "that is, if the pictures I've seen are correct. Not much wings
and curls and white robes about me, Maree. And who ever heard of an
angel in a check apurn, I want to know?"