his notes. This day had come at last! Now what was
going to happen?

We were not left long in doubt. The day after the notes fell due--this
sum which was to have been paid from the sale of his season's flowers--a
gentleman dressed all in black came to the house and handed us a stamped
paper. It was the process server. He came often; so many times that he
soon began to know us by name.

"How do you do, Mlle. Etiennette? Hello, Remi; hello, Alexix!"

And he handed us his stamped paper smilingly, as though we were friends.
The father did not stay in the house. He was always out. He never told
us where he went. Probably he went to call on business men, or he might
have been at court.

What would the result be? A part of the winter passed. As we were unable
to repair the conservatories and renew the glass frames, we cultivated
vegetables and hardier flowers that did not demand shelter. They were
not very productive, but at least it was something, and it was work for
us. One evening the father returned home more depressed than usual.

"Children," he said, "it is all over."

I was about to leave the room, for I felt that he had something serious
to say to his children. He signed to me to stop.

"You are one of the family, Remi," he said sadly, "and although you are
not very old, you know what trouble is. Children, I am going to leave
you."

There was a cry on all sides.

Lise flung her arms round her father's neck. He held her very tight.

"Ah, it's hard to leave you, dear children," he said, "but the courts
have ordered me to pay, and as I have no money, everything here has to
be sold, and as that is not enough, I have to go to prison for five
years. As I am not able to pay with my money, I have to pay with my
liberty."

We all began to cry.

"Yes, it's sad," he continued brokenly, "but a man can't do anything
against the law. My attorney says that it used to be worse than it is."

There was a tearful silence.

"This is what I have decided is the best thing to do," continued the
father. "Remi, who is the best scholar, will write to my sister
Catherine and explain the matter to her and ask her to come to us. Aunt
Catherine has plenty of common sense and she will be able to decide what
should be done for the best."

It was the first time that I had written a letter, and this was a very
painful one, but we still had a ray of hope. We were very ignorant
children and the fact that Aunt Catherine was coming, and