"THAT FIGHT WILL LONG BE REMEMBERED IN THE ANNALS OF THE GANG"
The next morning André François went to school minus his familiar. During the week and a half that followed he was "attacked" with startling frequency and regularity. Almost every afternoon he came home with his clothes muddy and torn.
He was grimly silent about the details of these mishaps.
Angélique was in despair.
"Ah, Madame," she said to Miss Biron, "in one short month he will not have a stitch to wear—out of the largesse of four trunks full. And the las' command of Madame Fouchette, it was 'Angélique, always make Monsieur André François to look like the little prince.' Ciel! how can one make heem to look like the little prince when thees so savage boys tear off his clothes? But I do my ver' bes'—I darn and darn and darn heem."
André François made no one his confidant, but day by day he grew more somber and silent. His early garrulity was quite gone. Instead of the air of hauteur which characterized him on his entrance to the town, he now had a pathetic droop. He even became careless about his clothes.
"He used to be so proud, so debonair," said Angélique sadly, "when he have the clean, white suit on, he is like the peacock, he know he is beautiful—but now—he does not care what he have on. No!"
"What can be the matter?" asked Miss Biron anxiously, for she was really worried by André François' looks; "he has never been seriously hurt in these little school-boy fights."