“My dear papa, I want to go away from here.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” said his father. “What has happened? Have you quarrelled with Eusèbe?”
“Not exactly,” rejoined Maurice, “I generally give way to him; but now he wants me to give him Cressida in exchange for Jeanne.”
“Who is Jeanne?”
“It is a beautiful white goat, who has two pretty little kids; and Eusèbe beats her because he wants me to take her and give him Cressida; but Fritz told me never to part with the wooden horse. You see, papa, Jeanne is not made of wood; she lives and feels like me, and it’s terrible to see lately how he beats her. You can’t imagine how nice she is; and so grateful to any one who is kind to her. Then to see how she loves her little children!”
“Well, well, if that’s the case we must not leave her with Eusèbe any longer. Tell him I’ll make him—a present of something much more valuable in exchange for her.”
“Oh, but I know he won’t give her for anything but Cressida.”
“Why, he must be a little monster. Don’t be unhappy, my child: tomorrow morning we will leave Malassise, so you shall see no more of his cruelty, at all events.”
Once more at home, Maurice did not long remain unhappy about Jeanne. Do not accuse him of caprice, my little readers; but think how quickly your own impressions pass away or change. It is natural to childhood that it should be so.
(To be continued.)