be asking him as many questions as there are in the catechism."

Thus enjoined, Papa Patoux kissed his children affectionately,
signing the cross on their brows as they came up to him in turn,
after the fashion of his own father, who had continued this custom
up to his dying day. What they thought of the benediction in itself
might be somewhat difficult to define, but it can be safely asserted
that a passion of tears on the part of Babette, and a fit of
demoniacal howling from Henri, would have been the inevitable result
if Papa Patoux had refused to bestow it on them. Whether there were
virtue in it or not, their father's mute blessing sent them to bed
peaceably and in good humour with each other, and they trotted off
very contentedly beside their mother, hushing their footsteps and
lowering their voices as they passed the door of the room occupied
by Cardinal Bonpre.

"The Archbishop is not an angel, is he?" asked Babette whisperingly.

Her mother smiled broadly.

"Not exactly, my little one. Why such a foolish question?"

"You said that Cardinal Bonpre was a saint, and that perhaps we
should see an angel come down from heaven to visit him," replied
Babette.

"Well, you could not have thought the Archbishop came from heaven,"
interpolated Henri, scornfully,--"He came from his own house over
the way with his own secretary behind him. Do angels keep
secretaries?"