of the Duchess of Clarides; but now as she had no more milk
for babies Maurille instead nursed the chickens in the poultry yard. It
was there that the master and squire found her. She cried: "Psit! Psit!
psit! psit! lil--lil--lil--lil--psit, psit, psit, psit!" as she threw
grain to the chicks.

"Psit, psit, psit, psit! Is it you, your lordship? Psit, psit, psit! Is
it possible that you have grown so tall--psit! and so handsome? Psit,
psit! Shoo! shoo, shoo! Just look at that fat one there eating the
little one's portion! Shoo, shoo, shoo! The way of the world, your
lordship. Riches go the rich, lean ones grow leaner, while the fat ones
grow fatter. There's no justice on earth! What can I do for you, my
lord? May I offer you each a glass of beer?"

"We will accept it gladly, Maurille, and I must embrace you because you
nursed the mother of her whom I love best on earth."

"That's true, my lord, my foster child cut her first tooth at the age
of six months and fourteen days. On which occasion the deceased duchess
made me a present. She did indeed."

"Now, Maurille, tell us all you know about the dwarfs who carried away
Honey-Bee."

"Alas, my lord, I know nothing of the dwarfs who carried her away. And
how can you expect an old woman like me to know anything? It's ages ago
since I forgot the little I ever knew, and I haven't even enough memory
left to remember where I put my spectacles. Sometimes I look for them
when they're on my nose. Try this drink; it's fresh."

"Here's to your health, Maurille; but I was told that your husband knew
something about the disappearance of Honey-Bee."

"That's true, your lordship. Though he never was taught anything he
learnt a great deal in the pothouses and the taverns. And he never
forgot anything. Why if he were alive now and sitting at this table he
could tell you stories until to-morrow. He used to tell me so many that
they quite muddled my head and even now I can't tell the tail of one
from the head of the other. That's true, your lordship."

Indeed, it was true, for the head of the old nurse could only be
compared to a cracked soup-pot. It was with the greatest difficulty that
George and Francoeur got anything good out of it. Finally, however, by
means of much repetition they did extract a tale which began somewhat as
follows:

"It's seven years ago, your lordship, the very day you and Honey-Bee
went on that frolic from which neither of you ever returned. My deceased
husb