misery, "I'm a very tender-hearted man. If you will permit me, Madame,
I may be able to arrange a way for you and your husband to find a
means of living comfortably on good wages, and you may then be in a
position to keep little Napoleon--"

"No, no!" cried she instantly--almost fiercely. "I could not think of
it, M'sieur. I cannot consent to any--"

"Pardon me," interrupted Rouquin blandly. "Allow me to propose a--"

"I shall not listen to any proposition that may include Jean and
myself in--"

"In other words," said Rouquin, turning to Mr. Bingle, "she will not
accept charity for herself or her husband. They are very proud, Mr.
Bingle. They would die before accepting charity from--"

"A thousand times!" blurted out Monsieur Jean, wiping his brow. "Count
me out!"

"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle.

Napoleon began to cry. He had a lusty pair of lungs. Almost instantly,
the motherly looking person appeared in the doorway. She had been
waiting for Napoleon's signal.

"See!" she cried, holding up a bottle of milk. "I have it! To the
dairy-lunch and the chemist's I have been while--"

Rouquin leaped forward and snatched the squalling Napoleon from Mrs.