"Mais oui," assured Marianne with a nod, "and prunes."
"Where is that, the prison?" ventured the child.
"It is very far," returned Marianne, biting off the thread, "and it is not for every one either," she added with a touch of pride—"only I happen to be an old friend and know the judge."
"And how much does it cost a day, the prison?" asked Yvonne.
"Not that," replied Marianne, snipping her single front tooth knowingly with the tip of her nail.
"Mon Dieu! and they give you all that for nothing?" exclaimed the child in astonishment. "It is chic, that, hein!" and she nodded her pretty head with decision, "Ah mais oui, alors!" she laughed.
"I must be going," said Marianne, abruptly. "My young ones will be wanting their soup." She flattened her back against her heavy basket, slipped the straps under her armpits and rose to her feet, the child passing the bundle of nets to her and helping her shoulder them to the proper balance.
"Au revoir, ma belle petite," she said, bending to kiss the girl's cheek; then with her free hand she dove into her trousers' pocket and drew out a two-sous piece. "Tiens," she exclaimed, pressing the copper into the child's hand.
Yvonne gave a little sigh of delight. It was not often she had two sous all to herself to do what she pleased with, which doubles the delight of possession. Besides, the Mère Bourron kept her wages—or rather, count of them, which was cheaper—on the back page of a greasy book wherein were registered the births of calves.
"Au revoir," reiterated Marianne, and turned on her way to the village down the trail that wound through the salt grass out to the road skirting the bay. Yvonne watched her until she finally disappeared through a cut in the dunes that led to the main road.