From the barn he made his way to a tiny shack, which was his own little kitchen. Here he spent many hours over a small stove his father had made for him. He prepared dishes that he thought were very fine.
Today he had gathered some vegetables and carried them with the other things he had in his arms.
"What are you going to cook today?" asked the gardener, Emile (ā-mēl´).
He stood in the door holding a big rake and looking amused.
"A stew—a very fine stew," answered Philippe, and he began to pour a number of things into a pot.
"What are you putting into the stew?" asked Emile.
"Onions and peas, some rice, a nice little fat snail and a root," the boy replied, as he began to stir.
"A root? What kind of a root?" inquired the gardener.
"Oh, a root that I found. A very big one. I dug it up."