"Oh, no! I can’t, Maxime. I am too much excited, and—besides, I must tell you—to-day a new pupil came and gave us quite a feast of meringues, éclairs, and chocolate-creams, and I am not a bit hungry. And I am in a great difficulty about it, because when we’re not hungry we have to put our bread back in the basket, and in my trouble I forgot, and I shall be punished. But, Maxime, as we’re crossing the court when you go, I shall try to drop it down the cellar without any one seeing. "What, little sister!" I said, colouring a little, "you are going to waste that large piece of bread?" "It isn’t good of me I know, because, perhaps, there are poor people who would be very glad of it, aren’t there, Maxime?" "There certainly are, dear." "But what do you want me to do? The poor people don’t come in here." "Look here, Hélène, give me the bread, and I’ll give it in your name to the first poor man I meet. Will you?" "Oh, yes!" The bell rang for school. I broke the bread in two and hid the pieces shamefacedly in my great coat pockets. "Dear Maxime," said my sister, "you’ll come again soon, won’t you? Then you’ll tell me whether you met a poor man and gave him my bread, and whether he liked it? Good-bye, Maxime." "Yes, Hélène, I met a poor man and gave him your bread, which he seized and carried off to his solitary garret, and he liked it. But this poor man had not courage, for he wept as he ate the food that had come from your dear little hands. I will tell you all this, Hélène, because it is good for you to know that there are sufferings more serious than your childish woes. I will tell you everything, except the name of the poor man." _Tuesday, April 28th_.