the type who come on fair-days to cry
their papers, sell their toys, etc.--a noisy, rough crew. Goodness
gracious! Where was Mother Etienne's absurd dream leading her?
She, whose life was always so calm, and who, to tell the truth,
with Germaine, were rather like the two little monkeys at the
corner of the fire-place, hands clasped under their aprons, feet
on foot-warmers, and little pointed handkerchiefs on their heads.

At this personal picture everything turned as though by
enchantment into one huge, vast medley, which ended in a general
cake-walk of the whole menagerie, passing before the tired eyes of
Mother Etienne, roaring, bellowing, mewing, whistling, howling,
whinnying, and braying. Poor Mother Etienne was thoroughly
exhausted.

CHAPTER IX

MOTHER ETIENNE'S FORTUNE

When she woke up the good woman thought of her small fortune. She
gave it for safe keeping into the hands of her lawyer, M. La
Plume, while she was making up her mind how she should dispose of
it. She wanted plenty of time to think it over. She had already
decided to give Germaine a dowry, for the whole thing was largely
owing to her. She knew that she and Petit-Jacques were in love.

"They will make a fine couple," she thought, "and later on how
pleased I shall be to have a nice family around me--with dear
children who will love and care for me."

Then she thought of Pere Gusson--the good old man could have no
idea of all that had happened at the farm. He was going his
rounds, selling his wares as best he could. It was three months
since he had appeared, he would be back again before long--he had
already been away longer than usual.

And, sure enough, two days later Neddy announced his entrance into
the courtyard with a loud bray. If his master was glad to see
Mother Etienne who always received him so cordially, and who
bought so much from him, the donkey fully appreciated the hours of
rest and the good food he found in the paddock with the cows.

Mother Etienne went forward to meet the old man and gaily told him
the whole story.

He, utterly astounded, could not at first believe it. He made her
repeat the wonder over and over again. It certainly was a very
curious thing. He had always known his ointment was effective,
but--as to making hair grow on a hen--that was quite another
thing. He was just petrified by it.

Mother Etienne told Germaine to serve some good cider, and all
three drank to one another's healths.

"That