"Of course she does. She has nothing else to do, and I pay her enough to satisfy her." Charlot continued to yell, and the house looked as though it were locked up and there was no one in it. Brulette ran and knocked loudly on the door, but no one answered except Charlot, who screamed louder than ever, either from fright, or loneliness, or anger. I was obliged to climb to the thatch of the roof and clamber down through the trap-door of the loft. I opened the door for Brulette and then we saw Charlot all alone, rolling in the ashes, where by great good luck there was no fire, and purple as a beet from screaming. "Heavens!" cried Brulette, "is that the way to care for the poor little wretch? Well, whoso takes a child gets a master. I ought to have known it, and either not taken this one, or given up my own enjoyments." So saying, she carried Charlot to her own home, half in pity and half impatiently, and having washed, fed, and consoled him as best she could, she put him to sleep, and sat down to reflect, with her head in her hands. I tried to show her that it would be easy enough, by sacrificing the money she was gaining, to employ some kindly, careful woman to take charge of the boy. "No," she exclaimed, "I must look after him, because I am responsible for him, and you see what looking after him means. If I think I can let up for one day it is just that very day that I ought not to have done so. Yes, that's it, I ought not," she said, crying. "It would be wrong; and I should be sorry for it all my life." "On the other hand, you would do wrong if the child were to be the gainer by it. He is not happy with you, and he might be elsewhere." "Why, isn't he happy with me? I hope he is, except on the days when I am absent; and so I say I will not absent myself again." "I tell you he is no better off when you are here." "What do you mean?" cried Brulette, striking her hands with vexation; "where have you heard that? Did you ever see me ill-treat the child, or even threaten him? Can I help it if he is an unpleasant child with a sulky disposition? If he were my own I could not do better for him." "Oh! I know you are not unkind to him and never let him want for anything, because you are a dear, sweet Christian; but you can't love him, for that doesn't depend upon yourself. He feels this without knowing it, and that keeps him from loving and caressing others. Animals know when people like them or dislike them; why shouldn't little human beings do the same?" TWENTIETH EVENING. Brulette colored, pouted, began to cry, and said nothing; but the next day I met her leading her beasts to pasture with Charlot in her arms. She sat down in the middle of the field with the child on the skirt of her gown, and said to me:--