"the little merchant," for nothing so quickly kills ridicule as success.

When, two years later, his Uncle Gabriel came again to see how the
children were getting on, Ephraim was enabled to repay, in hard cash,
the money he had lent him.

"Oho!" cried Gudule's brother, with big staring eyes, as he clutched his
legs with both hands, "how have you managed in so short a time to save
so much? D'ye know that that's a great deal of money?"

"I've had good luck, uncle," said Ephraim, modestly.

"You've been...playing, perhaps?"

The words fell bluntly from the rough country-man, but hardly had they
been uttered, when Viola sprang from her chair, as though an adder had
stung her. "Uncle," she cried, and a small fist hovered before Gabriel's
eyes in such a threatening manner that he involuntarily closed them. But
the child, whose features reminded him so strongly of his dead sister,
could not make him angry.

"Ephraim," he exclaimed, in a jocund tone, warding off Viola with his
hands, "you take my advice. Take this little spit-fire with you into the
village one day...they may want a young she-wolf there." Then he
pocketed the money.

"Well, Ephraim," said he, "may God bless you, and grant you further
luck. But you won't blame me if I take the money,--I can do with it, and
in oats, as you know, there's some chance of good business just now. But
I am glad to see that you're so prompt at paying. Never give too much