'Truly, yes, of the best. My father has a loom, my mother works in the field and mill with brother Yvon, and I go to school and care for Nannette and nurse little Bebe.'
'What school?'
'At the convent, mademoiselle. The good sisters teach us the catechism, also to write and read and sew. I like it much,' and Marie glanced at the little prayer in her apron pocket, as if proud to show she could read it.
'What age have you?'
'Ten years, mademoiselle.'
'You are young to do so much, for we often see you in the market buying and selling, and sometimes digging in your garden there below, and bringing water from the river. Do you love work as well as school?'
'Ah, no; but mademoiselle knows it is necessary to work: every one does, and I'm glad to do my part. Yvon works much harder than I, and the father sits all day at his loom, yet he is sick and suffers much. Yes, I am truly glad to help,' and little Marie settled the big loaf as if quite ready to bear her share of the burdens.
'Shall we go and see your father about the goat? and if he agrees will you bring the milk fresh and warm every morning?' I asked, thinking that a sight of that blooming face would brighten our days for us.
'Oh, yes! I always do it for the ladies, and you will find the milk quite fresh and warm, hey, Nannette?' and Marie laughed as she pulled the goat from the hedge where she was nibbling the young leaves.