These words were uttered in such a shrill tone that they brought a tall old woman to the door.
"Who are you going on at now, Zenobie?" she asked, calmly.
"She's mad 'cause I'm late, grandmother; but the basket's awful heavy," said Rosalie.
"There, there!" said the grandmother, placidly; "put it down and go and get your supper; you'll find it kept warm on the stove."
"You wait for me here in the yard," said Rosalie to Perrine; "I'll be out in a minute and we'll have supper together. You go and buy your bread. You'll find the baker in the third house on the left. Hurry up."
When Perrine returned she found Rosalie seated at a table under a big apple tree. On the table were two plates full of meat stew and potatoes.
"Sit down and share my stew," said Rosalie.
"But ..." hesitated Perrine.
"You don't like to take it; you can. I asked my grandmother, and it's all right."
In that case Perrine thought that she should accept this hospitality, so she sat down at the table opposite her new friend.