“There’s my bed,” said Coco. “Oh! I’m all right, you see; Jacqueleine keeps me warm in winter. Jacqueleine loves me, she does!”
And the child threw his arms round the goat’s neck, and patted her, rolling over and over on the straw with her. But he was obliged to leave his faithful companion, for his grandmother called him.
“Come, come, good-for-nothing! You can play by-and-by. Come and put the bread on the table and give me a cup. The little scamp ain’t good for nothing.”
“You treat your grandson very harshly,” said Auguste, taking his place at the table and tasting the rye bread and the milk.
“If I’d let him have his way, monsieur, he’d play all day long.”
“But you must love the child dearly, as he’s the only one your daughter left you.”
“Oh! yes, I love him enough! But when a body’s poor, it’s just as well not to have none at all.”
Auguste looked once more at the old peasant woman, and her extreme ugliness no longer surprised him so much. He took Coco on his knee, gave him milk to drink, and bread and butter to eat, and enjoyed looking at his pretty face and lovely fair hair. The old woman seemed astounded by the endearments which the fine gentleman lavished on the child, and muttered between her teeth:
“Oh! you’ll spoil him! ‘taint no use in doing that!”
“Is he learning to read and write?”