GERMAINE and her parents, and her Uncle Daboll and his wife, and their little son Jean, just one year younger than Germaine, were all at the station long before the train was due. The two children were fairly prancing with glee, while Raton leaped about no less excited. They were very fond of Marie, as was every one who knew her, for she was a gentle, kind-hearted girl, and though several years older than Germaine, they were great companions. This was her first year away from home, and Germaine had missed her sadly. "There she is," cried Germaine, as the train pulled slowly in, and a young girl appeared at the window of one of the third-class carriages, waving her handkerchief, and throwing them kisses. Her father lifted her down, and every one kissed her twice, on either cheek, and amid much laughing and talking they walked toward Uncle Daboll's house, while Raton danced in circles about them as if he had gone mad. "Oh, Marie," cried Germaine and Jean in the same breath, "we have such a lovely surprise for you! You have heard, of course, of the grand 'Norman Fêtes,' which are to be held at Rouen next week! Well, just think, we are all going to see them, that is, you and Jean and me and uncle and aunt, and better still--how do you think we are going?" "Why, on the train, of course," laughed Marie, "and won't we have a good time." "No," spoke up Jean, quickly, "we are going a brand-new way. What do you say to going on a barge on the river?" "A barge," cried Marie, "but I thought no one was allowed to travel on the barges, except the people who ran them and lived on them." "That is true," said Germaine, "but uncle has fixed all that; you know he sends lots of brick to Rouen by the barges--one is being loaded up now at the quay, and he has arranged that we go on it to Rouen and stay on the barge while it is being unloaded, and see the fêtes. Then we will come back by train. Won't it be glorious?" "And," chimed in Jean, "papa is going to tell us all about the history of these fêtes after dinner." M. Daboll's home was a neat little cottage, with its upper part of black beams and white plaster, and a pretty red-tiled roof, the ground floor being of stone. M. Daboll owned a large brick-kiln, and was quite well-to-do. They all gathered for dinner about a round table in an arbour that overlooked the river. The arbour was ingeniously formed by training the branches of two trees and interlacing them as if they were vines, which gave complete shelter from the sun.