"Ah! these pathetic old ballads!" sighed Madame, turning to Mrs. Poskett. At the first note of Marjolaine’s song Jack had appeared at the window. Marjolaine now half turned to him, and went on:— "A pigeon-pie and a loaf of bread Are just behind the railin’!" The lamplighter, a wizened little man with a face like a ferret’s, came running round the corner with his short ladder over his shoulder. He put it against the lamp-post opposite the Admiral’s house, swarmed up it like a squirrel, lighted the lamp, slid down the ladder, and ran quickly to the lamp at Doctor Sternroyd’s. Jack had the door ajar, and was eagerly peeping out; but in the darkness he could see nothing. "The lamplighter!" exclaimed Madame Lachesnais, with some surprise. "I thought there was a moon to-night." "Perhaps he’s forgotten," answered Mrs. Poskett. "Anyhow, he ’ll come and put out the lights as soon as the moon rises." Marjolaine saw Jack’s dilemma and began singing again:— "All in the merry month of May When green buds they were swellin’!" The lamplighter was on his ladder lighting the Doctor’s lamp. "I should like to congratulate the Admiral," said Madame. "I ’ll send him out to you," answered Mrs. Poskett, eagerly. She saw her chance of obliging Lord Otford. Madame rose with her and accompanied her towards Sir Peter’s house. Marjolaine turned towards Jack, pointing with violent gesticulations to where the victuals lay:— "You’ll find the parcels where I say By lookin’ or by smellin’!" Then she ran into the summer-house. Jack caught sight of the food, and with a delighted "Ha!" crept down the steps. Unfortunately, however, the lamplighter had heard Marjolaine’s words and followed the direction in which she had pointed. His little ferret eyes gleamed greedily. Madame left Mrs. Poskett to go into the house, and turned to where she had left her daughter, but no Marjolaine was to be seen. "Marjolaine!" she called, anxiously. Marjolaine came slowly out of the Gazebo. Her hands were folded in front of her and her eyes were cast down. She looked altogether as subdued as a Saint in a stained-glass window. "Me voilà, Maman," she said, demurely. Madame sat under the elm, a little to the right of the trunk. Marjolaine came and knelt at her feet and seized both her hands so that she held the poor, deluded lady with her back to the houses, while she herself could watch Jack in his quest of the pigeon-pie. Madame was glad of this opportunity of saying a few well-chosen words to her daughter. She began very gravely:—"Marjolaine, you are putting on this gaiety to please me—" "No, Maman," said Marjolaine; but at that moment the lamplighter slid down his ladder, and, creeping on all fours, began stalking the pigeon-pie. She saw it was going to be a race between the lamplighter and Jack for the coveted prize, and she could not suppress a little startled "Oh!" "Why do you cry out like that?" asked Madame, with deep concern.