The Portland daily press., 1894-03-30

install myself between them on camp
stool, and with the little blue pelerines
behind us the questions begin.
Chow is be? What is he doingf Why
doesn't he come? Is he contented?" And
SO on for hours.
I replied as best could to all their
questions, giving the details which knew
about my friend and impudently invent
ing those did not know, especially avoid
ing the avowal that had never noticed
whether his windows shut firmly or OF
what color the wall paper of his room was.
ssThe wall paper of his room 1t is blue,
madame-light blue, with garlands."
s'ReaIly!'' said Mamette, much affect
ed. and turning toward her husband.
she is such good childP'
ssOh, yes, a very good child" echoed
the other with enthusiasm.
All the time that I talked they had be-
tween them little shakings of the head,
little cackles, winnings of the eye and all
sorts of knowing airs Or perhaps the old
man bent over to say: "Speak little
more distinctly. She is trifie hard of hear
ing.'' And she from her side: IA little
louder, beg of you. He does not hear
very WE'LL
Then I raised my voice, and they both
thanked me with smile, and in the fad
ed smiles of these two leaning toward me,
searching the depths of my eyes for the
image of their Maurice, was moved to
find this same image, vague, yelled, al
most undiscernible, as though I saw my
friend smile on me long way off through
fog.
All of sudden the old man stIaighten-
ed up in his armchair. ssNow think Of
it, Mamette, perhaps he has not had his
breakfast" And Mamette, startled,
stretches her arms toward heaven and re-
joins: sNot had breakfast! Grand Dieup'
I thought they were still speaking OF Maui
rice, and [ was going to reply that the
good child never waited later than noon
to put himself at table. But, no; they were
speaking of me-and such clearing OF
the deck as there was when l owned that
I was still fasting.
i'Quick, the cover, little bluesl The table
in the middle of the room, the Sunday
cloth, the Powered dishes. And don't
laugh so much, if you please, and suppose
we hurry bit"
OF course they hurried. Hardly the
time to have broken three plates had elaps
ed, and the breakfast was served. GA nice
little breakfast said Mamette in con-
Quoting me to the table. "Only you will
be all alone We have already eaten this
morning"
These poor old peoplel No matter what
time you find them, they have always eat
en- in the morning. Mamette's nice little
breakfast was glass of milk, some dates
anda barquette something like meat pie),
enough to nourish her and her canaries at
least eight days. And I, unaided, made an
end of all these provisionsl All, what in
dignation then was felt around the table!
How the little blues whispered in nudging
each other with their elbows, and over
there in their cage the canaries had the air
of saying, ooh, who is this monsieur who
is eating the whole barQuette?"
did eat it all, and almost without OBJ
serving it, occupied as I was in looking
around me in this light, peaceful room,
where fingered an odor of old things.
There were especially two little beds from
which / could not take away my eyes,
These beds, almost cradles, | fancied that
1 could see in the morning at daylight,
when they are still hidden under their
fringed curtains. The bells ring o'clock.
It is the hour when all old people wake up.
care you asleep, Mamette9"
stNo, my dear"
isIsnt Maurice good ch1ld?
eyes, very good child"
And l imagined thus a whole converse
ton only from having seen the two little
beds side by side.
During this time terrible drama was
going on at the other end OF the room be-
fore the cupboard. The question was how
to reach up to the top shelf to a certain
Jar of branded cherries, which had await
ed Maurice for 10 years and which they
wished to open for me. Notwith standing
the supplications of Mamette, the old man
had insisted on getting the cherries him
self, and standing on chair, to the great
terror of his wife, he tried to reach up.
Imagine the picture-the old man, who
trembles and hoists himself up; the two
little blues clutching at the chair; Ma
mette behind, breathless, with arms out
spread and over all slight perfume OF
bergamot, which exhales from the great
piles of red linen in the cupboard.
1t was charming.
At length, after many efforts, they sue
ceeded in getting the famous jar out OF
the cupboard, along with an old embossed
silver cup which Maurice had had when
he was little. They filled it to the brim
with cherries for me. Maurice loved cher
cl6S SO WClli auu III SCLFIDS uO UuO Olo
man said in my ear, with an air of envy:
'sYou are very lucky, you are, to be able
to eat these. My wife made them. You
are going to taste something delicious"
Alas, his wife had made them, but she
had forgotten the sugar. What can one
expect? We become forgetful in getting
old Your cherries were atrocious, my
poor Mamette. But that did not prevent
me from eating them to the end without
wincing.
The repast finished, I arose to bid my
hosts adieu. They would gladly have kept
me longer to chat about the good child,
but the day was declining, the mill was
far away, and had to hasten. The old
man got up when did. "Mamette, my
coat! wish to conduct him to the square"
It is certain that inwardly Mamette
thought it already trifie too late to con-
duct me to the square, but she did not let
it appear. Only in helping him on with
his coat, fine one, the color OF Spanish
tobacco, with mother of pearl buttons, l
heard the dear creature say to him softly
t'You will not be out too late, will you?"
And he, with malicious little air: Hi,
Hill I don't know-perhaps"
L