ould be allowed to
inhabit it. Monsieur Mignon, the next owner of the property, was very
much attached to his cashier, Dumay, and the following history will
prove that the attachment was mutual; to him therefore he offered
the little dwelling. Dumay, a stickler for legal methods, insisted on
signing a lease for three hundred francs for twelve years, and Monsieur
Mignon willingly agreed, remarking,--

"My dear Dumay, remember, you have now bound yourself to live with me
for twelve years."

In consequence of certain events which will presently be related, the
estates of Monsieur Mignon, formerly the richest merchant in Havre, were
sold to Vilquin, one of his business competitors. In his joy at getting
possession of the celebrated villa Mignon, the latter forgot to demand
the cancelling of the lease. Dumay, anxious not to hinder the sale,
would have signed anything Vilquin required, but the sale once made, he
held to his lease like a vengeance. And there he remained, in Vilquin's
pocket as it were; at the heart of Vilquin's family life, observing
Vilquin, irritating Vilquin,--in short, the gadfly of all the Vilquins.
Every morning, when he looked out of his window, Vilquin felt a violent
shock of annoyance as his eye lighted on the little gem of a building,
the Chalet, which had cost sixty thousand francs and sparkled like a
ruby in the sun. That comparison is very nearly exact. The architect has
constructed the cottage of brilliant red brick pointed with white.
The window-frames are painted of a lively green, the woodwork is brown
verging on yellow. The roof overhangs by several feet. A pretty gallery,
with open-worked balustrade, surmounts the lower floor and projects
at the centre of the facade into a veranda with glass sides. The
ground-floor has a charming salon and a dining-room, separated from
each other by the landing of a staircase built of wood, designed
and decorated with elegant simplicity. The kitchen is behind the
dining-room, and the corresponding room back of the salon, formerly a
study, is now the bedroom of Monsieur and Madame Dumay. On the upper
floor the architect has managed to get two large bedrooms, each with a
dressing-room, to which the veranda serves as a salon; and above this
floor, under the eaves, which are tipped together like a couple of
cards, are two servants' rooms with mansard roofs, each lighted by a
circular window and tolerably spacious.

Vilquin has been petty enough to build a hig