As they came up to the mill-inn, a woman stood in the doorway. When she saw her, Marie Josephine stopped, hesitated, and would have turned away but the woman said sharply: “What do you want, you two little tramps?” Marie Josephine answered, “We’re not tramps, but we’re very hungry and want some breakfast. We can pay for it.” “You’re not to say that she is a tramp,” put in Jean indignantly, nodding toward Marie Josephine. The woman paid no attention to him. She was looking steadily at Marie Josephine, and as she looked, Marie Josephine could feel the color come into her cheeks. Could it be that the inn woman recognized her as the young Mademoiselle who had eaten déjeuner there the summer before? There was something about the woman which was familiar, something more than the remembrance of the summer before. Marie Josephine caught her breath. She suddenly remembered the figure she had seen under the oak tree after dinner the night before. She caught Jean’s hand and started to turn away, but at that moment the woman gave an exclamation and looked off toward the forest path. The children followed her glance. There, coming toward them, running lightly, and clearing a big mud puddle in the middle of the road with a bound, was Flambeau! He leaped upon Marie Josephine, fairly devouring her with kisses. There was no use in pretending, Flambeau had given them away! He gave short, staccato barks of joy, turning to jump on Jean, licking his face and hands, and then turning again to his little mistress. The inn woman looked from one to the other of them keenly, her face now alive with interest. She stared at Marie Josephine as hard as she could. Then she exclaimed: “The dog seems to know you well. I have seen him before and, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve seen you, too.” As she spoke, she pushed Marie Josephine gently toward the door, looking over her shoulder at Jean. “You can come in. I’ll have some coffee and a bit of bread for you soon. You can rest awhile, for you both looked fagged out.” Marie Josephine, though she was almost inside the door, tried to pull herself away from the woman. “No, Jean, we’ll go on, we don’t want breakfast here,” she said, but the woman had stretched out her arm and pulled Jean in, too. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you must have food, or you’ll not be able to take the rest of your journey, wherever it is you’re going.” The woman spoke kindly and shut the door after them. Flambeau had been the first to enter the mill-inn, and he bounded across the oddly-shaped room, still barking his delight. “Well, what do you think of this for a good resting place? See, there’s a window cut in the side over there so you can see the forest.” The woman was standing in front of the door, and as Marie Josephine and Jean followed the direction of her finger, and looked out at the road leading to the forest path, she quietly and quickly turned the key in the lock and put it in her pocket.