bbets but I'll dry somebody's tears," and he pounced savagely
upon this little martyr, like a kite on a chick, but with more generous
intentions. It was a pretty little lass of about twelve; the tears were
raining down her two peaches, and her palms lifted to heaven in that
utter, though temporary, desolation which attends calamity at twelve;
and at her feet the fatal cause, a broken pot, worth, say the fifth of a
modern farthing.

"What, hast broken thy pot, little one?" said Gerard, acting intensest
sympathy.

"Helas! bel gars; as you behold;" and the hands came down from the sky
and both pointed at the fragments. A statuette of adversity.

"And you weep so for that?"

"Needs I must, bel gars. My mammy will massacre me. Do they not already"
(with a fresh burst of woe) "c-c-call me J-J-Jean-net-on C-c-casse tout?
It wanted but this; that I should break my poor pot. Helas! fallait-il
donc, mere de Dieu?"

"Courage, little love," said Gerard; "'tis not thy heart lies broken;
money will soon mend pots. See now, here is a piece of silver, and
there, scarce a stone's throw off, is a potter; take the bit of silver
to him, and buy another pot, and the copper the potter will give thee
keep that to play with thy comrades."

The little mind took in all this, and smiles began to struggle with the
tears: but spasms are like waves, they cannot go down the very moment
the wind of trouble is lulled. So Denys thought well to bring up his
reserve of consolation "Courage, ma mie, le diable est mort!" cried that
inventive warrior gaily. Gerard shrugged his shoulders at such a way of
cheering a little girl,

"What a fine thing
Is a lute with one string,"

said he.

The little girl's face broke into warm sunshine.

"Oh, the good news! oh, the good news!" she sang out with such heartfelt
joy, it went off into a honeyed whine; even as our gay old tunes have
a pathos underneath "So then," said she, "they will no longer be able to
threaten us little girls with him, making our lives a burden!" And she
bounded off "to tell Nanette," she said.

There is a theory that everything has its counterpart; if true, Denys it
would seem had found the mind his consigne fitted.

While he was roaring with laughter at its unexpected success and
Gerard's amazement, a little hand pulled his jerkin and a little face
peeped round his waist. Curiosity was now the dominant passion in that
small but vivid countenance.

"Est-ce toi qui l'a