"Have you forgotten how to write, my child?" continued Mère Fourcy. "Oh! no, aunt; but I can't write well enough to write to a gentleman from Paris." "In that case, my dear, get that old man to write to him, who's just come here to live, and who writes all the nurses' letters. He handles his pen fine, I tell you! He'll write a sentence two pages long to tell you your child's had the colic, or needs a new cap. Or else ask neighbor Mauflard to do you the favor; he's an old schoolmaster, and he ought to write like a Barême's grammar!" Denise was still silent; but after a moment she said, lowering her eyes: "Don't you think, aunt, that it would be better to go to Paris and speak to the gentleman? Wouldn't it be more polite than writing?" "You're right again, my child; and there's a little stage that starts for Paris at eight o'clock every morning and brings you back at four." "And then, aunt, I've been to Paris twice, you know, and nothing ever happened to me." "All right, my child, go ahead; nothing ever happens to anybody unless they want it to." "And I'll take Coco with me, shan't I, aunt?" "Yes, my dear; that will please the gentleman. It will be polite to him; and if I wasn't so busy here, I'd go with you and ask him to give me some dinner, because I know what's the right thing to do, you see." Denise was quite as well pleased that her aunt should not go with her; but she was overjoyed that she herself was allowed to go, and she ran off to engage seats for herself and Coco for the next day. The rest of that day she spent in preparing her dress. Coco jumped for joy when he learned that he was going in a stage to see his kind friend, and Mère Fourcy packed two pairs of chickens, two dozen eggs, some fruit and cake, in a basket, as a present for the young gentleman in Paris. Denise was up before dawn. It was early in October; but it was a lovely day, and reminded the girl of that on which she first met Auguste. Her toilet was soon made; she wore a new dress and her daintiest cap--the one in which, on Sundays, she turned the heads of all the young men in the village, and drove the girls to despair. But would that pretty cap have the same power in Paris? Denise had no desire to make conquests; there was but one person whom she wished to please, although she said to herself a hundred times a day: "No, no! I am not in love with him." Coco was dressed very neatly. Mère Fourcy gave them the basket, saying: "Give him my compliments, and tell him to think of me when he eats the chickens, and to tell me how he likes that cake!" Denise and Coco ran, for fear of missing the stage; at last they were safely inside, the basket between Denise's legs, and they started for Paris.