'I haven't read many fairy stories, Missie,' he said; 'but treasure caves, such as ours, don't figure in them, I fancy. Our treasure is mostly smugglers' stuff. Some day I will take you to see them, and some of them will astonish you.'
'Oh, yes. Do take me. I love caves. I know of some—— ' She stopped, hesitating. 'I am sure I do—but where? Did we go to some once?'
'Only those we went to to-day.'
'And they are the treasure caves?'
'Yes; but the real thing is below, where you have not yet grown strong enough to go.'
Little did he guess under what circumstances he would show her that mysterious cave, the entrance to which was his secret.
'But,' went on Estelle, 'you have not told me why Madame Bricolin calls you a giant—— '
'I suppose,' answered his mother, with a glance of pride at her tall son, 'anybody would call him a big man. Even in England he would not be thought small.' Mrs. Wright laughed. 'And in France, where the men are mostly short—no height at all, to speak of—why, he is a mighty man! So Mère Bricolin calls him a giant.'
'He is a giant,' said Estelle, looking at Jack, admiringly. 'But why of the Hospice de la Providence?'
'Because we live in the Hospice, dearie. It does seem more natural to call a man by the house he lives in.'