eak out.

"You are really too greedy!" she began. "I myself went into the
kitchen--" However, she left her sentence unfinished: "No, no, I won't
tell; it isn't right, is it, mamma? There's nothing more--nothing at
all! I only laughed to cheat you."

This interlude was re-enacted every Tuesday with the same unvarying
success. Helene was touched by the kindliness with which Monsieur
Rambaud lent himself to the fun; she was well aware that, with
Provencal frugality, he had long limited his daily fare to an anchovy
and half-a-dozen olives. As for Abbe Jouve, he never knew what he was
eating, and his blunders and forgetfulness supplied an inexhaustible
fund of amusement. Jeanne, meditating some prank in this respect, was
even now stealthily watching him with her glittering eyes.

"How nice this whiting is!" she said to him, after they had all been
served.

"Very nice, my dear," he answered. "Bless me, you are right--it is
whiting; I thought it was turbot."

And then, as every one laughed, he guilelessly asked why. Rosalie, who
had just come into the room again, seemed very much hurt, and burst
out:

"A fine thing indeed! The priest in my native place knew much better
what he was eating. He could tell the age of the fowl he was carving
to a week or so, and didn't require to go into the kitchen to find out
what there was for dinner. No, the smell was quite sufficient.
Goodness gracious! had I been in the service of a priest like your
reverence, I should not know yet even how to turn an omelet."

The Abbe hastened to excuse himself with an embarrassed air, as though
his inability to appreciate the delights of the table was a failing he
despaired of curing. But, as he said, he had too many other things to
think about.

"There! that is a leg of mutton!" exclaimed Rosalie, as she placed on
the table the joint referred to.

Everybody once more indulged in a peal of laughter, the Abbe Jouve
being the first to do so. He bent forward to look, his little eyes
twinkling with glee.

"Yes, certainly," said he; "it is a leg of mutton. I think I should
have known it."

Despite this remark, there was something about the Abbe that day which
betokened unusual absent-mindedness. He ate quickly, with the haste of
a man who is bored by a long stay at table, and lunches standing when
at home. And, having finished, himself, he would wait the convenience
of the others, plunged in deep thought, and simply smiling in reply to
the quest