did remember, and shook with laughter at the
recollection of that or of something equally droll.

"I shall never forget Madame's look of astonishment," he cried, "as the
pancakes were turned out of the poele, and disappeared wholesale like
lightning." 'Ah, madame,' I said, 'you have yet to learn the capacious
appetites of our Breton boys and girls. It is one of the few things in
which they are not slow and phlegmatic.'

"'And have not improved in,' laughed Madame. 'These habits are the
remains of barbarism.'

"'Madame,' I replied, 'you must not forget that we are descended from
the Ancient Britons.' Ah! that was a clencher, Madame laughed, but she
said no more."

"Until she returned," added our hostess. "Then she whispered to me:
'Madame Hellard, those pancakes looked extremely good, and as they are
peculiar to Brittany, you must give us some for dinner. I must taste
your _crepes_.'

"'Madame la Comtesse,' I returned, 'Brittany has many peculiarities; we
cannot deny it; would that they were all as innocent as these crepes. My
chef is not a Breton, and he will not make them, perhaps, quite a la
maniere des notres; but I will superintend him for once. You shall have
our famous dish.' And if you wish to know how she liked them," concluded
Madame, laughing, "ask Catherine, la-haut. Three times a week at least
we had pancakes on the menu. But nothing delights us more than when we
please our guests. We like them to be at home here, and to feel that
they may do as they please and order what they like."

To the truth of which self-commendation we bore good testimony.

"Now about the excursions," said M. Hellard. "I recommend you to go
to-morrow to St. Thegonnec and Guimiliau, the next day to St.
Jean-du-Doigt and Plougasnou, and the third day to Landerneau and Le
Folgoet. The two first by carriage, the last by train."

So it was arranged, and we were about to separate when in came our
hostess of that little auberge by the river-side, _A la halte des
Pecheurs_, carrying a barrel of oysters. She had walked all the way, and
though the sun shone brilliantly, she was armed with a huge cotton
umbrella that would have roofed a fair-sized tent.

"Madame Mirmiton!" cried M. Hellard; "and with a barrel of oysters, too!
You are welcome as fine weather at the _Fete-Dieu_! But why you and not
your husband?"

"Ah, monsieur!" replied Madame Mirmiton: "Figurez-vous, my husband was
running after that naughty girl of mine, stumbled