dismay, wondering if she did it to test their wicks, or what could be
the reason. But even as she watched her the woman placed the candles,
all seven of them, in a sort of a branched candlestick on the wall above
her head.

"Non! Non!" cried Patty; "they are MINE, MINE! comprenez-vous? Mine!"

"Oui, oui, oui," exclaimed the Frenchwoman, nodding her head
complacently, and taking Patty's money, which she put in a box on the
table before her.

"But I want them!" cried Patty. "I want to take them away with me!"

Still the woman smiled amiably, and Patty realised she was not
understanding a word. But all Patty's French, and it was not very much
at best, seemed to fly out of her head and she could not even think how
to say, "I wish to take them away with me." So seeing nothing else to
do, she cut the Gordian knot of her dilemma by reaching up and taking
the candles from the sockets. She blew them out, and holding them in a
bundle, said pleasantly, "Papier?" having thought of a French word at
last that expressed what she wished.

The woman looked at her in amazement, as if she had done something
wrong, and poor Patty was thoroughly perplexed.

"Why, I bought them," she exclaimed, forgetting the Frenchwoman could
not understand her, "and I paid you for them, and now they're mine, And
I'm going to take them away. If you won't give me any paper to wrap them
in, I'll carry them as they are. Eon jour!"