s, so long
as we know 't is good?" and measured the stocking on her nose and made
merry music with the flying needles.

Soon the truth forced itself on Jean Francois and Catherine that no man
is thought much of by his kinsmen and boyhood acquaintances. No one at
Gruchy believed in the genius of Jean Francois--no one but the old
grandmother, who daily hobbled to mass and prayed the Blessed Virgin not
to forget her boy. Jean Francois and his wife studied the matter out and
talked it over at length, and they decided that to stay in Gruchy would
be to forfeit all hope of winning fame and fortune.

Gruchy held nothing for them; possibly Paris did.

And anyway, to go down in a struggle for better things was not so
ignominious an end as to allow one's powers to rust out, held back only
through fear of failure.

They started for Paris.

Yes, Paris remembered Jean Francois. How could Paris forget him--he was
so preposterous and his work so impossible!

It was still a struggle for bread.

Marriages and births have a fixed relation to the price of corn, the
sociologists say. Perhaps they are right; but not in this case.

The babies came along with the years, and all brought love with them.

The devotion of Jean Francois to his wife and children had a deep, sober,
religious quality, such as we associate with Abraham and Jacob and the
other patriarchs of old.

The heart of Millet was often wrung by the thought of the privation and
hardships his wife and children had to undergo. He blamed himself for
their lack of creature comforts, and the salt tears rained down his beard
when he had to go home and report that he had tramped the streets all day
with a picture under his arm, looking for a buyer, but no buyer could be
found.

But all this time the old grandmother up in Normandy waited and watched
for news from her boy.

Now and again during the years she saw his name mentioned in connection
with the Salon; and once she heard a medal had been granted him, and at
another time an "Honorable Mention."

Her heart throbbed in pride and she wrote congratulations, and thanked
the good God for answering her prayers. Little did she know of the times
when bread was cut in tiny bits and parceled out to each hungry mouth, or
the days when there was no fuel and the children kept to their beds to
prevent freezing.

But the few friends of Jean Francois who had forced the "Honorable
Mention" and secured the medal, now got something m