"Yes, sir, I'm goin' now. Sorry I can't walk with you further, but business calls me in the other direction.
"Good evenin', monsieur—Watch out there. Can't ye see where yer goin'? Little more an' ye'd been eatin' the dandelions! Good evenin', monsieur!"
A little further down the street, Gavroche was standing scrutinizing a shop window, when two little children came up to him crying.
"What's the matter with you, brats?"
"Boo-hoo—we—ain't got no place to sleep."
"The idea a bawlin' about that. Come along with me, I'll give ye a place to sleep. Say, hev ye got any shiners?"
"Boo-hoo—no—sir!"
"Well, come along with me. I'm rich. Ye can't hear 'em rattle, but all is not gold that rattles."
"Monsieur, we—boo-hoo—we asked that barber man over there to let us get warm in his store and—and—he wouldn't do—it—boo-hoo!"
"Well, now, don't bawl about that. He don't know no better. He's an Englishman. But I'll jes' take a note of that insult. [Takes paper from his pocket and writes.]—Get even with Barber at 63 Rue Saint Antoine. Too mean to occupy space here below. There now! that'll fix 'em. Hurry along here now or my hotel will be closed.—Say, brats, you stay here a minute. There is a poor little girl what's cold and she ain't got nothin' around her. You stay here till I gits back.