The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1901-12-27
CHAPTER XXVI.


than not we were without wood for our
FIRE, and when we had II, 1t was green
and unseasoned, and only smoldered
away with smoke that stung and lrri-
tated our eyes. Our insufficient and IN
wholesome food supplied US with no IN.
ward warmth. At times the pangs Of
hunger grew too strong for us both ana
forced mo to spend a little Of the money
l was nursing SO carefully AS soon as
could make myself understood, went
out occasionally after dark to buy bread
and milk.
I found that had no duties to perform
as teacher, for none OF the three French
pupils desired to learn English. English
girls, who had been decoyed into the
same snare by the same false photograph
and prospectus which had entrapped me,
were all Of families too poor to be abe
to forfeit the money which had been paid
in advance for their French education.
Two Of them, however, completed their
term at Christmas and returned home
weak and Ill; the third was to leave IN
the spring.
Very fast melted away my money.
could not see the child pining with nun
ger. though every sou | spent made our
return to England more difficult. MAD
anne Perrier put no hndrance in my way,
for the more food we purchased for our
selves, the less we ate at her table. Ihe
bitter cold and the coarse food told upon
M,n,ma,a delicate little frame. Yet
what could | do2 | dared not write to
Mrs. Wilkinson, and very much doubt
ed IL there would be any bene1t to be
hoped for II | ran the risk. Minima did
not know the address Of any one OF the
persons who had subscribed for her edu-
cation and board. She was as friendless
as was in the world.
So far away were DIR. Martin Dobree
and Tardif that | dared not count them
as friends who could have any power to
help me. Better for DR.. Martin Dobree
II he could altogether forget me, and
return to his cousin Julia. Perhaps he
had done so already.
Towards the middle Of February Mad
anne Perrier's coarse face was always
overcast, and monsieur seemed gloomy,
too gloomy to retain even French polite
ness Of manner towards any Of US. The
household was under cloud, but could
not discover why What little discipline
and work there had been in the school
was quite at an end Every one was left
to do as she chose.
Early one morning, long before the dag
break, | was startled out Of my sleep by
a hurried knock at my door, 1t proved
to be Mademoselle Morei. | opened the
door for her, and she appeared in her
bonnet and walking dress, carrying a
lamp In her hand, which lit up her weary
ar-stained face. She took a seat al
the foot Of my bed and buried her face
In her handkerchief.
"Mademoisele," she said, here is 4
grand misfortune, misfortune without
parallel. Monsieur and madame are
gone"
"Gonew repeated; where are they
gomez"
II do not know, mademoiselle," she
answered; II know nothing at all. They
are gone away. The poor good people
were In debt, and their creditors are al
hard as stone They are gone, and
have no means to carry on the establish
ment. The school Is finished"
'But am to stay here twelve months,
/ cried, in dismay, "and Minima was t
stay four years. The money has beei
paid to them for it. What is to become
of usT
81 cannot say, mademoiselle; | am des
olated myself" she replied, with fresl
burst Of tears; "al is finished here. |
YOU have not money enough to take yol
back to England you must write to you
friends. | am going to return to Bor
deaux. / detest Normandy; it is so COX
and triste."
"But what is to be done with the 'othe
pupils?" inquired.
"The English pupil goes with ME t
Paris" she answered; "she has he
friends there. The French demoiselle
are not far from their own homes, an
they return to-day by the omnibus t
Granville. 1t is misfortune withou
parallel, mademoiselle-a misfortun
without a parallel"
To crown all, she was going to star
Immediately by the omnibus to Falaist
and on by rail to Paris, not waiting 70
the storm to burst. She kissed me o
both cheeks, bade me adieu, and wa
gone, leaving me In utter darkness, befor
I fairly comprehended the rapid Frenc
In which she conveyed her intention.
had seen my last of Monsieur and'Mat
anne Perrier, and Of Mademoiselle More
All | had to do was to see to myse
and Minima. | carried our breakfas
back with me, when | returned to Nil
lima.
81 wish I'd been born a boy" she sal
plantively; "theyv can get their own liz
ing sooner than girls, and better. HO'
soon do you think l could get my ow
living? | could be a little nursemai
now, you know; and I'd eat very little
"What makes you talk about gettin
your livingT" asked.
"How pale you lOokV she answers
nodding her little head; "why, hear
something Of what mademoiselle SAT-
You're very poor, aren't you. Aui
Nelly2"
"Very poorw repeated, hiding n
face on her pillow, whilst hot tears for
ed themselves through my eyeliis.
"0hl this will never do" said the chill
lsh voice; "we mustn't cry, you kno'
The boys always said it was like a bal
10 cry; and father used to say, 'Courag
Minimap Perhaps, when all our mon
Is gone. we shall find great big pur
full of gold: or else a beautiful Fren
prince will see you and fall in love wi
you, and take us both to his palace, al
make you his princess; and we shall
grow up till we die"
| laughed at the oddity Of this child
climax, in spite Of the heaviness OF L
heart and the springing Of my teal
Minima's fresh Young fancies were {
droll to resist, especially in eombinati
with her shrewd. old-womanish know
edge of many things Of which | was
norant.
II was now that across the darkness
my prospects flashed a thought that see
ed like an angel OF light Why should
not try to make my way to Mrs DOhr
Martins mother. to whom | could {
my whole history, and on whose frieI
ship and protection | could rely impliC
ly? BY this time Kate Daltrey woV
have quilted the Channgl Islands. sat