ed some very fine silk and made a good profit by selling it.
But every franc of the money was earned--it never came to him easily."

"We'll try to do as well as he has, won't we, Mother?" Marie said
softly.

"We must not expect to do anything as well as your father would have
done it; he has been a very successful silk-grower. But we will do as
well as we are able," returned Madame Bretton with a sad, far-away
glance.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III

PERE BENEDICT

When Madame Bretton and the children returned from their inspection of
the silk-house they were surprised to find Monsieur le Cure, good Father
Benedict, awaiting them. The priest was sitting contentedly in the
sunshine, his walking-stick in his hand, and the gentle breeze stirring
his white hair. Beside him stood Hector with nose on the Cure's knee and
great brown eyes looking into the kindly face of the old man.

Madame Bretton hurried forward.

"Why, Father!" she exclaimed. "Who would have thought of finding you
here! Have you been waiting long?"

"But a few minutes, my dear," was the answer. "I knew well you could not
have strayed far, for the house was unlocked, and the kettle steaming on
the hob."

"So it was," laughed Madame Bretton. "You must stay and share our
porridge with us, Father. It is just supper time, and you have had a
long walk from the village. You must be hungry. The children and I would
be so glad if you would be our guest."

Marie and Pierre added their pleas.

"Do stay, Father," they cried. "Stay and tell us some stories."

Monsieur le Cure smiled into their eager faces.

"I will gladly stay if you are sure the porridge----"

"There is enough, Father, and to spare," declared Madame Bretton. "But
had I known you were coming you should have had one of the hot tea cakes
that you like so much."

"Ah, a tea cake--how good it is! You are a rare cook, my daughter." He
glanced into Madame Bretton's face with radiant smile. "But is not
hearty welcome better than a pyramid of tea cakes? If you are sure about
the porridge----"

He chuckled playfully.

"There is plenty, Father--plenty," put in Marie. "I saw Mother measure
it. And if there weren't you should have mine," she added as she
joyously seized his baretta and stick and hurried away with them.

"You are a good child, Marie," the old priest called after her. "Now
make haste to put my things away, and then you and Pierre shall come
here and tell me how your silk