One afternoon, when D’Argenton and Charlotte had gone to drive, Jack, who was alone with Mother Archambauld, saw that he must relinquish his usual excursion to the forest on account of a storm that was coming up. The July sky was heavy with black clouds, copper-colored on the edges; distant rumblings of thunder were heard, and the valley had that air of expectation which often precedes a storm. Fatigued by the child’s restlessness, the forester’s wife looked out at the weather, and said to Jack,— “Come, Master Jack, it does not rain; and it would be very kind of you to go and get me a little grass for my rabbits.” The child, enchanted at being of use, took a basket and went gayly off to search in a ditch for the food the rabbits liked. The white road stretched before him, the rising wind blew the dust in clouds, when suddenly Jack heard a voice crying, “Hats! Hats to sell! Nice Panamas!” Jack looked over the edge of the ditch, and saw a pedler carrying on his shoulders an enormous basket piled with straw hats. He walked as if he were footsore and weary. Have you ever thought how dismal the life of an itinerant salesman must be? He knows not where he will sleep at night, or even that he can obtain the shelter of a barn; for the average peasant always regards a pedler, or any stranger, indeed, as an adventurer, and watches him with distrustful eyes. “Hats! Hats to sell!” For whose ears did he intend this repetition of his monotonous cry? There was not a person in sight, nor a house. Was it for the benefit of the birds, who, feeling the coming of the storm, had taken shelter in the trees? The man took a seat on a pile of stones, while Jack, on the other side of the road, examined him with much curiosity. His face was forbidding to a certain extent, but expressed so much suffering in the heavy features, that Jack’s kind heart was filled with pity. At that moment a thunder-clap was heard; the man looked up at the skies anxiously, and then called to Jack to ask how far off the village was. “Half a mile exactly,” answered the child. “And the shower will be here in a few moments,” said the pedler, despairingly. “All my hats will be wet, and I shall be ruined.” The child thought of his own memorable journey, and he wished to do a kind act. “You can come to our house,” he said, “and then your hats will not be injured.” The pedler grasped eagerly at this permission, for his merchandise was so delicate. The two hurried on as fast as possible; the man walking, however, as if he were treading on hot iron. “Are you in pain?” asked the child. “Yes, indeed, I am; my shoes are too small for me; you see my feet are so big that I can never find anything large enough for them. O, if I should ever be rich, I would have a pair of shoes made to measure!”