, 1886-09-17
II CHILD SPY.

male. perhaps 10 and perhaps 10
years old. for with these imps you can
never tell. HIS mother was dead, and
his father, formerly n soldier in marines,
was the guardian of a square in the
Quarter du Temple. Everybody knew
Father Stenne and loved him. babies.
nurses, poor women and the old ladies'
with their campstools, in fact, the whole
of that part of Paris which seeks a refuge
from carriages in these flower plots sur
rounded by sidewalks. Everybody knew
what a pleasant, sympathetic smile the
old fellow hid behind his bristling mus
tache, the terror of both dogs n dloafers,
and they also knew but to call up that
smile they had but to ask:
How is the little boy to-day
How old Father Stenne loved that boy.
He felt so happy when the little fellow
came for him in the evening after SCHOOL,
and they walked dow the alleys hand
in hand, stopping before each bench 10
greet the regular visitors and answer
their polite questions.
Unfortunately the siege changed all
this. Father Stenne's square was closed
and petroleum was stored there; so the
poor old man, eve on the watch, and not
allowed to smoke, passed his life wander
ing alone among the deserted, over
turned strawberries. He could not SEQ
his son now until late at night. at home.
and you should have heard him talk
about the Prissians and seen his mus
tache bristlc up fiercely! Young Stennc
did not complain much of his new life.
You see a siege is lots of fun for the
boys; school is closed. no more examine
tons now, every day is a holiday, and
the streets are like a fair.
The child used 20 stay out until night
fall, running about everywhere. He fol-
lowed the companies of his ward as they
tramped off to duty on the ramparts,
and always picked out those that had
the best band. Young Stenne was well
up on this subject, and he could tell you
why the band Of the Ninety-sixth was
poor, and why that of the Fifty-ffth WAS
30 good. Then again he watched mo-
biles drill. Besides these amusements,
there were the waiting professions,
which formed before the doors of the
butchers and bakers. in the dark winter
mornings, when the lights were all out,
and he would stand up in file like the
rest, with his basket under his arm and
his feet in the slush and water; here he
made acquaintance and talked politics,
and, as he was the son of Mr.. Stenne,
everybody asked his opinion. But what
was most fun was pitching PEN
MES, and that famous game of
-galoche," which the Breton militia
had brought into fashion during the siege.
When you could not find young Stenne
either on the ramparts or at the bakers,
he was pretty sure to be at the game of
"galoche," OF the Square du Chateau
d'Eau. He could not play, of course
that cost too much; but he looked on,
and opened the biggest, greediest eyes in
the world.
There was one fellow in n blue smock
whom he admired especially; he only bet
dollar chips, and when he ran you could
heus the silver jingle in his pockets.
One day as he was picking up a coin
which had rolled away and stopped just
at young Stenne's feet, the big fellow
said to him in Il low voice: at makes
you squirt. does it? Well, if you want
to know I'll tell you where you can get
some
When The game was over he led him
10 a corner of The square and proposed to
him to go with him and sell newspapers
to the Russians; he got 80 francs n trip.
Stenne refused Mt first and was highly
indignant. For three days he would not
go back to the ~game-what awful DAYS
those three were. He could not eat or
sleep. AT night he dreamed of piles of
..lA.I.. 90. Al. F-.s = IL. IL 49,. ~.
shining dollars, slipping along on their
faces. The temptation was too strong.
and on the fourth day he returned to the
Chateau d'Eau, saw the big fellow, and
allowed himself to be talked over.
One snowy morning they started out,
each with a cloth bag slung across his
shoulder, and with the newspapers hid
den under his blouse. 1t was hardly
light when they reached the Flanders
gate. The big boy took him by the hand
and led him ~ to the sentinel, a good
humored. fat old fellow with a red nose,
and said 10 him in a winning voice:
Kind sir, do let us pass, please sir;
mothers i'll and fathers dead, and my
young brother and l want to get into
the field and try to find some potatoes.r
He was actually crying. Stenne,
ashamed of himself. hung his head. The
sentinel looked at them a moment, then
down the solitary, white road.
Pass, then, quickly" he said, stand
ing aside, and they found themselves on
the re 1t to Aubervilliers. How the big
fellov laughed I!
lniistinctly, as in n dream, young
Stcnne noticed the factories that now
were used as barracks and garnished
with wet rags. and the high chimneys
that pierced the fog and threw up their
empty, broken walls toward the clouds.
Here and there a sentinel, hooded officers
scanning the horizon through their
glasses. little tents soaked with thawing
snow before which the campfires were
dying. The big fellow knew the roads
well, and whore to cut across the fields
to avoid the pickets; still. notwithstand-
ing these precautions, they fell upon an
outpost Of sharpshooters, wrapped in
their short cloal,s and huddled up in a
ditch half full of water, that runs along
the railroad track of scissors. Here the
big fellow repeated his tale in vain; they
would not allow him to pass. While he
stood there complaining, an old sergeant
stepped out of the crossing-keeper's
house; his hair was white, and with his
wrinkles he looked somewhat like Father
Stcnnc.
Come, come, boys, don't stand there
crying, he said to the children; they'll
let you through after your potatoes; but
Just come in here and get warm. That
youngster looks frozen
Alas! Young Stenne was trembling
all over, not with cold, but with shame
and faap Inatt. tEn.. fe...l -