able to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor
when letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live. Uncle
Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by men,
he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who cannot
be deceived.

He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor
but not as forlorn as he, also lodged. Among these neighbors there was a
single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came
both wind and rain. She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing
to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it. She was
never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret.
She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom
seemed to envelop her like a shroud. Her dejection affected Maurice; he
attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words. It was
easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the little
hunchback's good-will; he perceived it, and said no more.

But Toinette's needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and
presently work failed her! Maurice learned that the poor girl was in
want of everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit.
He immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what
they supplied Toinette with.

Things went on in this way for several months. The young dressmaker
continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills she
had contracted with the shopkeepers. When she came to an explanation
with them, everything was discovered. Her first impulse was to run to
Uncle Maurice, and thank him on her knees. Her habitual reserve had
given way to a burst of deepest feeling. It seemed as if gratitude had