"As the good God wills," said the woman, patiently. "We cannot devise or shape Fate, mademoiselle."
Nan stood up and shook her head, saying vigorously, and in her own tongue, for she was too much moved to remember Mademoiselle Loro's teaching:
"But we need not accept Fate's determination as final, I am sure! There is a good God, as you say, madam. This child must have food, and—"
At the moment Bess rushed in carrying the paste-board box containing the remains of their lunch. "Here!" she cried, dramatically. "Give the poor little fellow this."
"Oh, little ladies!" responded the woman, "have a care. You will have need of this food yourselves."
"No, no!" cried Bess, the impetuous. "We are stuffed to repletion.
Aren't we, Nan?"
"We have certainly eaten much more recently than madam and the little one," agreed Nan, heartily.
The woman opened the box. The child sat up with a crow of delight. The mother gave him one of the stale crullers, and he began gnawing on it with all the gusto of a hungry dog on a bone.
"Take something yourself, madam," commanded Nan. "And more for the little fellow."
"Let 'em have it all, Nan," whispered the impulsive Bess. "Goodness! we can get on somehow."