smarter than they; don't
you, Amandine?"

"No, Francois, I don't find that makes any difference. But I am quite
glad I have got such a nice new pretty _marmotte_ as that will make, all
the same."

"Go along with you, you little mean-spirited thing!" cried Calabash,
disdainfully; "you have not a grain of proper pride in you." Then,
snatching from the table a morsel of bread and cheese, she thrust them
into the children's hands, saying, "Now, get off to bed,--there is a
lanthorn; take care you don't set fire to anything, and be sure to put
it out before you go to sleep."

"And hark ye," added Nicholas, "remember that if you dare to say one
word to Martial of the box, the copper, or the clothes, I'll make you
dance upon red-hot iron; and, besides that, your pretty silk
handkerchiefs shall be taken from you."

After the departure of the children, Nicholas and his sister concealed
the box, with its contents, the clothes, and lumps of copper, in a sort
of cellar below the kitchen, the entrance to which was by a low flight
of steps not far from the fireplace.

"That'll do!" cried the hardened youth. "And now, mother, give us a
glass of your very best brandy; none of your poor, every-day stuff, but
some of the real right sort, and plenty of it. Faith! I think I've
earned a right to eat and to drink whatever you happen to have put by
for grand occasions. Come, Calabash, look sharp, and let's have supper.
Never mind Martial, he may amuse himself with picking the bones we may
leave; they are good enough for him. Now, then, for a bit of gossip over
the affair of the individual I went to meet on the Quai de Billy,
because that little job must be settled at once if I mean to pouch the
money he promised me. I'll tell you all about it, mother, from beginning
to end. But first give me something to moisten my throat. Give me some
drink, I say! Devilish hard to be obliged to ask so many times,
considering what I have done for you all to-day! I tell you I can stand
treat, if that's what you are waiting for."

And here Nicholas again jingled the five-franc pieces he had in his
pocket; then flinging his goatskin waistcoat and black woollen cap into
a distant part of the room, he seated himself at table before a huge
dish of ragout made of mutton, a piece of cold veal, and a salad. As
soon as Calabash had brought wine and brandy, the widow, still gloomy
and imperturbable, took her place at one side of the table, having
Nicholas on he