"Well! it is jolly here, eh?"
"Oh, yes!" the lad answered, as he looked at Gavroche with the expression of a saved angel.
The two poor little fellows, who were wet through, began to grow warm again.
"By the bye," Gavroche went on, "why were you blubbering?"
And pointing to the younger boy he said to his brother,—
"A baby like that, I don't say no; but for a tall chap like you to cry is idiotic, you look like a calf."
"Well, sir," the lad said, "we hadn't any lodging to go to."
"Brat," Gavroche remarked, "we don't say 'lodging,' but 'crib.'"
"And then we felt afraid of being all alone like that in the night."
"We don't say 'night,' but 'sorgue.'"