“You are speaking very often of your mamma this evening.” “Yes, because something tells me that I shall see her again. That report of papa which Victor gave us has somehow given me a feeling of being nearer to my parents. For a time I felt as if I had none. Now I feel that I have.” “Heaven grant that it may be so,” responded Paulette piously as she rose from the frugal meal and began to clear the table. It was a scantily furnished, poor little place, two rooms and a queer sort of kitchenette contrived from a dark closet where a sink and running water were established, together with a tiny stove. It was already a problem how they were to be kept warm in winter. The larger of the two rooms held Paulette’s cot, three chairs, a table, and a set of shelves which served as cupboard. In Lucie’s room was her cot with one chair and an iron washstand over which hung a small mirror. The floors were uncovered and the only household utensils were those which had been brought from the old home in that basket which was retained instead of the one containing food. More than once Paulette and her charge had congratulated themselves that it was this instead of the other basket. “The food would have been eaten long ago,” Paulette declared, “but look what remains.” The matter of clearing away did not occupy many minutes and then Lucie opened her package. It was done up firmly, but with not more paper than barely necessary, so it was almost at once that Lucie saw the contents. “Of all things, Paulette,” she cried, “a pair of shoes! It is you who have done this to play a joke upon me.” “You are quite on the wrong track, my dear,” responded Paulette, picking up one of the shoes and examining it carefully. “Even supposing I had the will I could not have afforded shoes like these. You should try them on.” This Lucie did not hesitate to do, stretching out her little foot to be admired. “Do you see, Paulette? They fit exactly, a trifle wide, perhaps, but that is a good fault. Now who in the world could have chosen so exactly but you? No one else but Odette could possibly know the size, and poor Odette has no money to spend on a gift. Come, Paulette, confess that you have done this to give me a pleasant surprise.” “But I tell you that I have nothing to do with it. Shall I then take credit for a thing which I have not done? No, no, my child, it is some other and I can guess who. I may be a stupid old pig but it does not tax my brains to guess the giver.” Lucie put on the other shoe and sat looking admiringly at her outstretched feet, all the time at a loss to read a puzzle which the older woman had so readily solved. She picked up the paper which had come around the shoes and examined the address attentively. She shook out the paper, then she took off the shoes and looked inside. “I cannot guess,” she said at last.