Pêcheurs_, carrying a barrel of oysters. She had walked all the way, and
though the sun shone brilliantly, she was armed with a huge cotton
umbrella that would have roofed a fair-sized tent.

"Madame Mirmiton!" cried M. Hellard; "and with a barrel of oysters, too!
You are welcome as fine weather at the _Fête-Dieu_! But why you and not
your husband?"

"Ah, monsieur!" replied Madame Mirmiton: "Figurez-vous, my husband was
running after that naughty girl of mine, stumbled over the cat and
sprained his ankle. He will be quite a week getting well again."

"And the cat?" asked our host, comically.

"Pauvre Minette!" answered Madame Mirmiton, with tears in her voice.
"She flew up the chimney. We have never seen her since--two days ago."

"Well, whether you or your bon homme bring them, these oysters are
equally à propos. I am sure ces messieurs will enjoy our natives for
déjeuner. I have it!" he cried, striking his forehead. "You shall have
an early déjeuner, and start immediately after for St. Thégonnec,
instead of delaying it until to-morrow. You will have plenty of time,
and must profit by the fine weather. I will order déjeuner at once, and
the carriage in an hour."

So are there times when our days, and occasionally the whole course of
our lives, are apparently changed by the turning of a straw.

Having mentioned the oysters, we ought also to record their excellence.
Catherine flew about the salle à manger, served us with her own hands,