"Yes, I know we are late."
"We ought to run; but your mites are tired. We are only two women, and cannot carry three brats. And then, you, Flécharde, you are carrying one as it is,—a perfect lump of lead. You have weaned that little gormandizer, and you still carry it. That is a bad habit; you had better make it walk. Well, the soup will be cold,—worse luck!"
"Ah, what good shoes you gave me! They fit as though they were made for me."
"It's better than going barefooted."
"Do hurry, René-Jean."
"He is the one who makes us late; he has had to stop and speak to all the little village girls that we meet He behaves like a man already."
"Of course he does; he is going on five years old."
"Tell us, René-Jean, why did you speak to that little girl in the village?"
A child's voice, that of a boy, replied,—
"Because I know her."