The young ladies came out of their leafy lurking-place in time to meet the little Bonapartes' nurse, Severia--a tall old woman, who carried on her arm a basket filled with the most luscious tempting pears, grapes, and figs. "A pear, Severia!" cried Napoleon, darting forward, and thrusting his hand into the basket. "The saints forbid, child!" exclaimed Severia. "They are for your uncle the canon!" "Ah!" said Napoleon, drawing back his hand as quickly as if a wasp had stung him. Panoria burst out laughing. "I never saw such people!" she said, as soon as her mirth allowed her to speak. "My uncle the canon seems the bugbear of the whole family. Is Severia afraid of him, too?" "Not more than I am," said Napoleon, boldly. "And yet you were afraid to take a pear?" "Because I did not wish to do it, Panoria." "Did not _dare_ do it, Napoleon!" "Did not _wish_ to do it, Panoria." "And if you wished it, would you do it?" "Certainly I would." "I think you are a boaster, Napoleon; and in your uncle's presence would be just as great a coward as Eliza or Pauline?" "Come, children, follow me," said Severia, walking on. "You think I am a coward?" whispered Eliza to her little friend. "Come into the house, and see if I don't eat as much of uncle's fruit as I please. Mamma is gone out to pay a visit, and will not be home until to-morrow." "Then I'll help you," said Panoria. And the little girls, fixing their wistful eyes on the tempting fruit, followed Severia to the house. Napoleon remained some time longer in his grotto; and when supper-time approached, he went into the house. Feeling very thirsty, he entered the dining-room, in which was a large cupboard, where fresh water was usually kept. Just as he was going in, he heard a noise: the cupboard doors were quickly shut, and he caught a glimpse of a white frock disappearing through the open window. Instead, however, of looking after the fugitive, he went quietly to get a glass of water in the cupboard. Then, to his dismay, he saw his uncle's basket of fruit half empty! While, forgetting his thirst, he looked with astonishment at the fruit, considering who could have been the hardy thief, a voice behind him roused him from his reverie. "What are you doing there, Napoleon? You know you are not permitted to help yourself to supper." This was uncle the canon himself--a short, stout old man with a bald head, whose otherwise ordinary features were lighted up with the eagle glance which afterward distinguished his grand-nephew. "I was not taking any thing, uncle," replied Napoleon. And then suddenly the idea occurring to him that he might be accused of having taken the fruit, the blood rushed hotly to his cheeks. His confusion was so evident, that the canon said, "I hope you are not telling a falsehood, Napoleon?" "I never tell falsehoods," said the boy, proudly. "What were you doing?" "I was thirsty; I came to get some water." "No harm in that--and then, my boy?" "That was all, uncle."