ith rings on
their ringers, and at whom her Jean-Pierre was peeping. "Neni!" She
repeated it once more and still more curtly and more obstinately than
before.

But the vestryman was tenacious, he knew the people he had to deal
with. "You must think it over," he said persuasively. "And they'll give
you a good sum, I tell you--won't you?" he asked, turning to the
gentleman. "Haven't you said you weren't particular to a coin or two
in the case of such a poor woman?"

"No, certainly not," assured Paul. And Kate was too precipitate
again. "It does not matter at all to us--we will gladly give what she
asks--oh, the dear child!"

"Dju n' vous nin,"[B] muttered the woman.

[Footnote A: Nous avons tous faim.]

[Footnote B: Je ne veux pas.]

"You won't? Oh, nonsense." The old peasant almost laughed at her.
"You are just like my Mayflower when she won't stand, and kicks the
milk-pail with her hind foot. Don't offend the people. What advantage
will it be to you if they grow impatient and go away? None at
all. Then you will have five who call out for bread, and the winter is
near at hand. Do you want to have such a winter as you had last
year? Didn't Jean-Pierre almost die of cold? The four others are
already older, it's easier to rear them. And you can get a cow for
yourself--just think of that, a cow. And you could have a better roof
put on the house, which won't let the rain and the snow come through,
and could have enough cranberries as well. It would certainly be a good
stroke of business, Lisa."

Kate wanted to add something more--oh, what a lot of good she would
do the woman, if she would only give the child to her!--but the old man
cleared his throat and winked at her covertly to warn her that she was
to be silent.

"Kubin m'e dinroz--ve?"[A] inquired the woman all at once.

[Footnote A: Combien me donnerez-vous donc?]

She had been standing undecided for a long time with her head bowed,
and a deep silence had reigned around her. The strange lady and
gentleman had not moved, nor had the vestryman; no wind had whistled in
the chimney, no fire crackled. A silent expectation weighed on them
all. Now she raised her head, and her gloomy eyes glanced at the
miserable room, the small quantity of bread on the table and then at
the hungry four, as though examining everything. She no longer looked
at the fifth child. She had grown pale, the deep sunburn on her face
had turned a greyish colour.

"What's