all have fifty francs for the rest of the year, up to midsummer.'--The
child refused, but she couldn't help thinking about it and telling me
when she came home at night and found me sad and perplexed about getting
through the winter, which is sure to be hard and long, for we saw the
cranes and wild geese fly south this year a full month earlier than
usual. We both cried; but at last we took courage. We said to each other
that we couldn't stay together, because there's hardly enough to keep
one person alive on our little handful of land; and then Marie's getting
old--here she is nearly sixteen--and she must do as others do, earn her
bread and help her poor mother."

"Mere Guillette," said the old ploughman, "if fifty francs was all that
was needed to put an end to your troubles and make it unnecessary for
you to send your daughter away, why, I would help you to find them,
although fifty francs begins to mean something to people like us. But we
must consult good sense as well as friendship in everything. If you were
saved from want for this winter, you wouldn't be safe from future want,
and the longer your daughter postpones taking the step, the harder it
will be for you and for her to part. Little Marie is getting to be tall
and strong, and she has nothing to do at home. She might fall into lazy
habits--"

"Oh! as far as that goes, I'm not afraid," said Mere Guillette. "Marie's
as brave as a rich girl at the head of a big establishment could be. She
doesn't sit still a minute with her arms folded, and when we haven't any
work, she cleans and rubs our poor furniture and makes every piece shine
like a looking-glass. She's a child that's worth her weight in gold, and
I'd have liked it much better to have her come to you as a shepherdess
instead of going so far away among people I don't know. You'd have
taken her at midsummer if we could have made up our minds; but now
you've hired all your help, and we can't think of it again until
midsummer next year."

"Oh! I agree with all my heart, Guillette! I shall be very glad to do
it. But, meanwhile, she will do well to learn a trade and get used to
working for others."

"Yes, of course; the die is cast. The farmer at Ormeaux sent for her
this morning; we said yes, and she must go. But the poor child doesn't
know the way, and I shouldn't like to send her so far all alone. As your
son-in-law is going to Fourche to-morrow, he can just as well take her.
It seems that it's very nea