A man had come in. By the bright flame which lit him up I could see that he carried a big stick in his hand.
"So, you're having a feast here, don't disturb yourselves," he said roughly.
"Oh, Lord!" cried Mother Barberin, putting the frying pan quickly on the floor, "is it you, Jerome."
Then, taking me by the arm she dragged me towards the man who had stopped in the doorway.
"Here's your father."
CHAPTER II
MY ADOPTED FATHER
Mother Barberin kissed her husband; I was about to do the same when he put out his stick and stopped me.