"This is what I have decided is the best thing to do," continued the father. "Remi, who is the best scholar, will write to my sister Catherine and explain the matter to her and ask her to come to us. Aunt Catherine has plenty of common sense and she will be able to decide what should be done for the best." It was the first time that I had written a letter, and this was a very painful one, but we still had a ray of hope. We were very ignorant children and the fact that Aunt Catherine was coming, and that she was practical, made us hope that everything could be made right. But she did not come as soon as we had hoped. A few days later the father had just left the house to call on one of his friends, when he met the police face to face coming for him. He returned to the house with them; he was very pale; he had come to say good-by to his children. "Don't be so downcast, man," said one of them who had come to take him; "to be in prison for debt is not so dreadful as you seem to think. You'll find some very good fellows there." I went to fetch the two boys, who were in the garden. Little Lise was sobbing; one of the men stooped down and whispered something in her ear, but I did not hear what he said. The parting was over very quickly. M. Acquin caught Lise up in his arms and kissed her again and again, then he put her down, but she clung to his hand. Then he kissed Etiennette, Alexix and Benny and gave Lise into her sister's care. I stood a little apart, but he came to me and kissed me affectionately, just like the others, and then they took him away. We all stood in the middle of the kitchen crying; not one of us had a word to say. Aunt Catherine arrived an hour later. We were still crying bitterly. For a country woman who had no education or money, the responsibility that had fallen upon her was heavy. A family of destitute children, the eldest not yet sixteen, the youngest a dumb girl. Aunt Catherine had been a nurse in a lawyer's family; she at once called upon this man to ask his advice, and it was he who decided our fate. When she returned from the lawyer's, she told us what had been arranged. Lise was to go and live with her. Alexix was to go to an uncle at Varses, Benny to another uncle, who was a florist at Saint-Quentin, and Etiennette to an aunt who lived at the seashore. I listened to these plans, waiting until they came to me. When Aunt Catherine ceased speaking, and I had not been mentioned, I said, "And me?..." "Why, you don't belong to the family." "I'll work for you." "You're not one of the family." "Ask Alexix and Benny if I can't work, and I like work." "And soup, also, eh?" "But he's one of the family; yes, aunt, he's one of the family," came from all sides. Lise came forwards and clasped her hands before her aunt with an expression that said more than words.