Bélisaire lighted his lamp and arranged his dinner, which consisted of a fine salad of potatoes and salt herring. He took from a closet two plates, bread and wine, and placed them on a little table. “Now,” he said, with an air of triumph, “all is ready, though it is not much like that famous ham you gave me in the country.” The potato salad was excellent, however, and Jack did justice to it. Bélisaire was delighted with the appetite of his guest, and did his duty as host with great delight, rising every two or three minutes to see if the water was boiling for the coffee. “You have a taste for housekeeping, Bélisaire,” said Jack, “and have things nicely arranged.” “Not yet,” answered the pedler; “I need very many articles,—in fact, these are only lent to me by Madame Weber while we are waiting.” “Waiting for what?” asked Jack. “Until we can be married!” answered the pedler, boldly, indifferent to Jack’s gay laugh. “Madame Weber is a good woman, and you will see her soon. We are not rich enough to start alone in housekeeping, but if we could find some one to share the expenses, we would lodge and feed him, do his washing and all, and it would not be a bad thing for him, any more than for us. Where there is enough for two there is always enough for three, you know! The difficulty is to find some one who is orderly and sober, and won’t make too much trouble in the house.” “How should I do, Bélisaire?” “Would you like it, Jack? I have been thinking about it for an hour, but did not dare speak of it. Perhaps our table would be too simple for you.” “No, Bélisaire, nothing would be too simple. I wish to be very economical, for I, too, am thinking of marrying.” “Really! But in that case we can’t make our arrangements.” Jack laughed, and explained that his marriage was an affair of four years later. “Well, then, it is all settled. What a happy chance it was that we met. Hark! I hear Madame Weber.” A heavy step mounted the stairs; the child heard it too, for it began a melancholy wail. “I am coming,” cried the woman from the end of the corridor, to console the little one. “Listen,” said Bélisaire. The door opened; an exclamation, followed by a laugh, was heard, and presently Madame Weber, with her child on her arm, entered Bélisaire’s room. She was a tall, good-looking woman, of about thirty, and she laughed as she showed him the little one’s feet, but there was a tear in her eye as she said, “You are the person who has done this.” “Now,” said Bélisaire, with simplicity, “how could she guess so well?”