As soon as the door was closed, Manette and her son exchanged sarcastic
looks.

"He a Buxieres!" growled Claudet. "He looks like a student priest in
vacation."

"He is an 'ecrigneule'," returned Manette, shrugging her shoulders.

'Ecrigneule' is a word of the Langrois dialect, signifying a puny,
sickly, effeminate being. In the mouth of Madame Sejournant, this
picturesque expression acquired a significant amount of scornful energy.

"And to think," sighed Claudet, twisting his hands angrily in his bushy
hair, "that such a slip of a fellow is going to be master here!"

"Master?" repeated Manette, shaking her head, "we'll see about that!
He does not know anything at all, and has not what is necessary for
ordering about. In spite of his fighting-cock airs, he hasn't two
farthings' worth of spunk--it would be easy enough to lead him by the
nose. Do you see, Claudet, if we were to manage properly, instead of
throwing the handle after the blade, we should be able before two weeks
are, over to have rain or sunshine here, just as we pleased. We must
only have a little more policy."

"What do you mean by policy, mother?"

"I mean--letting things drag quietly on--not breaking all the windows at
the first stroke. The lad is as dazed as a young bird that has fallen
from its nest. What we have to do is to help him to get control of