The grandmother then consented, and Jack and Cécile became close companions. The old lady grew very fond of the little fellow. She saw that he was neglected at home, that the buttons were off his coat, and that he had no lesson-hours. “Do you not go to school, my dear?” “No, madame,” was the answer; and then quickly added,—for a child’s instinct is very delicate,—“Mamma teaches me.” “I cannot understand,” said Madame Rivals to her husband, “how they can let this child grow up in this way, idling his time from morning till night.” “The child is not very clever,” answered the doctor, anxious to excuse his friends. “No, it is not that; it is that his stepfather does not like him.” Jack’s best friends were in the doctor’s house. Cécile adored him. They played together in the garden if the weather was fair, in the pharmacy if it was stormy. Madame Rivals was always there, and as there was no apothecary’s store in Etiolles, put up simple prescriptions herself. She had done this for so many years, that she had attained considerable experience, and was often consulted in her husband’s absence. The children found vast amusement in deciphering the labels on the bottles, and pasting on new ones. Jack did this with all a boy’s awkwardness, while little Cécile used her hands as gravely and deftly as a woman grown. The old physician delighted in taking the children with him when he went about the country to visit his patients. The carriage was large, the children small, so that the three were stowed in very comfortably, and merrily jogged over the rough roads. Wherever they went they were warmly welcomed, and while the doctor climbed the narrow stairs, the children roamed at will through the farm-yard and fields. Illness among these peasant homes assumes a very singular aspect. It is never allowed to interfere with the routine and labors of daily life. The animals must be fed and housed for the night, and driven out to pasture in the morning, whether the farmer be well or ill. If ill, the wife has no time to nurse him, or even to be anxious. After a hard day’s toil she throws herself on her pallet and sleeps soundly until dawn, while her good man tosses feverishly at her side, longing for morning. Every one worshipped the doctor, who they affirmed would have been very rich, had he not been so generous. His professional visits over, the old man and the children started for home. The Seine, misty and dark with the approach of evening, had yet occasional bars of golden light crossing its surface. Slender trees, with their foliage heavily massed at the top, like palms, and the low white houses along the brink, gave a vague suggestion of an Eastern scene. “It is like Nazareth,” said little Cécile; and the two children told each other stories while the carriage rolled slowly homeward.