"Well," said the lady, "it can be of no use to you; I should like it for my youngest child. I will give you any price you like to ask for it."
"Madam," replied Katherine, "we value this little cap, and cannot part with it; indeed, we ought not to do so."
"My good woman," interrupted the lady angrily, "this cap can be of no use to you,—I desire to have it; you will do well to consider before you refuse me."
She was well aware of the troubles which had lately come upon Gaspard and his family, and believed that they would in consequence be afraid of offending her.
Poor Katherine was now much distressed; she knew full well the power the steward possessed of injuring them, and yet she was firm in her determination of not parting with the cap.
"Madam," said she, clasping her hands, as if in entreaty, "I will do anything else to oblige you; but I cannot part with that cap;—pardon me for refusing?"
The lady rose angrily, and throwing the cap on the ground, she said,—"You shall pay dear for this insolence;" and without giving Katherine time to reply, indignantly left the cottage, in spite of the rain which still fell heavily.
Katherine sank on a seat, and covering her face with her hands wept bitterly. She knew she had acted rightly, but naturally feared the consequences. If only her husband had been at home, she would have felt less cast down. Poor little Francis clung to her, endeavouring by his childish caresses to comfort her, though unable to comprehend the cause of her grief. He picked up the little cap and laid it on her lap, and then laid his own fair head upon it. Katherine placed her hand fondly on the bright curls, though her tears still fell fast.
It was not long before Gaspard and his two boys returned; they had luckily obtained shelter during the storm.
On learning the cause of his wife's distress, the poor man, though equally fearing the consequences which might result from what had occurred, at once re-assured her by saying,—