“Enter,” he called.

A wide-eyed, pale-faced child came creeping in.

“What! Little Claire!” he cried.

“Your mother is not better!”

She stood before him,

The fire-light faintly colouring her thin face,—

“M’sieur, she is very ill. You are a doctor.

Come, quickly.”

Through the narrow, ill-lighted streets

Old Jean Guettard went hobbling, a small hand