was afraid that he would not let her sick mother come in.

"I mean she's a little bit tired. We've come a long way."

"I never ask people where they come from," replied the man gruffly. He
pointed to a corner of the field, and added: "You can put your wagon
over there and tie up the donkey. And if it squashes one of my pups
you'll pay me five francs, one hundred sous ... understand?"

As she was going he called out:

"Will you take a glass of wine?"

"No, thanks," she replied; "I never take wine."

"Good," he said; "I'll drink it for you."

He drained another glass, then returned to his collection of rags.

As soon as she had installed Palikare in the place that the man had
pointed out to her, which was accomplished not without some jolts,
despite the care which she took, Perrine climbed up into the wagon.

"We've arrived at last, poor mama," she said, bending over the woman.

"No more shaking, no more rolling about," said the woman weakly.

"There, there; I'll make you some dinner," said Perrine cheerfully.
"What would you like?"

"First, dear, unharness Palikare; he is very tired also; and give him
something to eat and drink."

Perrine did as her mother told her, then returned to the wagon and took
out the small stove, some pieces of coal and an old saucepan and some
sticks. Outside, she went down on her knees and made a fire; at last,
after blowing with all her might, she had the satisfaction of seeing
that it had taken.

"You'd like some rice, wouldn't you?" she asked, leaning over her
mother.

"I am not hungry."

"Is there anything else you would fancy? I'll go and fetch anything you
want. What would you like, mama, dearie?"

"I think I prefer rice," said her mother.

Little Perrine threw a handful of rice into the saucepan that she had
put on the fire and waited for the water to boil; then she stirred the
rice with two white sticks that she had stripped of their bark. She only
left her cooking once, to run over to Palikare to say a few loving words
to him. The donkey was eating the thistles with a satisfaction, the
intensity of which was shown by the way his long ears stood up.

When the rice was cooked to perfection, Perrine filled a bowl and placed
it at her mother's bedside, also two glasses, two plates and two forks.
Sitting down on the floor, with her legs tucked under her and her skirts
spread out, she said, like a little girl who is playing with her doll:
"Now we'll have a little din