d had seven sisters for nothing. Well,
there she is--not a friend near her at the last; for it's coming soon,
the end--no one to speak to her, except the woman she pays to come in
and look after her and nurse her a bit. Of course there's the landlady
too, Madame Popincourt, a kind enough little cricket of a woman, but
with no sense and no head for business. And so the poor sick thing has
not a single pleasure in the world. She can't read, because it makes her
head ache, she says; and she never writes to any one. One day she tried
to sing a little, but it seemed to hurt her, and she stopped before she
had begun almost. Yes, m'sieu', there she is without a single pleasure
in the long hours when she doesn't sleep."

"There's my canary--that would cheer her up," eagerly said Jean Jacques,
who, as the story of the chirruping landlady continued, became master of
his agitation, and listened as though to the tale of some life for which
he had concern. "Yes, take my canary to her, madame. It picked me up
when I was down. It'll help her--such a bird it is! It's the best singer
in the world. It's got in its throat the music of Malibran and Jenny
Lind and Grisi, and all the stars in heaven that sang together. Also,
to be sure, it doesn't charge anything, but just as long as there's
daylight it sings and sings, as you know."

"M'sieu'--oh, m'sieu', it was what I wanted to ask you, and I didn't
dare!" gushingly declared madame. "I never heard a bird sing like
that--just as if it knew how much good it was doing, and with all the
airs of a grand seigneur. It's a prince of birds, that. If you mean it,
m'sieu', you'll do as good a thing as you have ever done."

"It would have to be much better, or it wouldn't be any use," remarked
Jean Jacques.

The woman made a motion of friendliness with both hands. "I don't
believe that. You may be queer, but you've got a kind eye. It won't be
for long she'll need the canary, and it will cheer her. There certainly
was never a bird so little tied to one note. Now this note, now that,
and so amusing. At times it's as though he was laughing at you."

"That's because, with me for his master, he has had good reason to
laugh," remarked Jean Jacques, who had come at last to take a despondent
view of himself.

"That's bosh," rejoined Mme. Glozel; "I've seen several people odder
than you."

She went over to the cage eagerly, and was about to take it away.
"Excuse me," interposed Jean Jacques, "I will c