Perrine straightened herself and cried out as she was told. "That's fine! You've got a good, clear voice. As I've got a sore throat, you can do the calling out for me, so like that you'll earn your grub. When we get to Creil I know a farmer there who goes as far as Amiens to get eggs and things. I'll ask him to take you in his cart. When you get to Amiens you can take the train to where yer relations hang out." "But what with? How can I take a train?" "I'll advance you the five francs that I'm goin' to get back from that baker. I'll get it! So I'll give yer five francs for your fare." CHAPTER VII MARAUCOURT AT LAST Things came to pass as La Rouquerie had arranged. For eight days Perrine ran through the streets of the villages and towns crying out: "Rabbit skins! Rags! Bones!" "You've got a voice that would make yer famous for this here business," said La Rouquerie admiringly, as Perrine's clear treble was heard in the streets. "If yer'd stay with me you'd be doin' me a service and yer wouldn't be unhappy. You'd make a livin'. Is it a go?" "Oh, thank you, but it's not possible," replied Perrine. Finding that the reasons she advanced were not sufficient to induce Perrine to stay with her, La Rouquerie put forth another: "And yer wouldn't have to leave Palikare." This was a great grief, but Perrine had made up her mind. "I must go to my relations; I really must," she said. "Did your relatives save yer life, like that there donkey?" insisted La Rouquerie. "But I promised my mother." "Go, then, but you see one fine day you'll be sorry yer didn't take what I offered yer p'raps." "You are very kind and I shall always remember you." When they reached Creil, La Rouquerie hunted up her friend, the farmer, and asked him to give Perrine a lift in his cart as far as Amiens. He was quite willing, and for one whole day Perrine enjoyed the comfort of lying stretched out on the straw, behind two good trotting horses. At Essentaux she slept in a barn. The next day was Sunday, and she was up bright and early and quickly made her way to the railway station. Handing her five francs to the ticket seller she asked for a ticket to Picquigny. This time she had the satisfaction of seeing that her five francs was accepted. She received her ticket and seventy-five cents in change. It was 12 o'clock when the train pulled in at the station at Picquigny. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, the air was soft and warm, far different from the scorching heat which had prostrated her in the woods, and she ... how unlike she was from that miserable little girl who had fallen by the wayside. And she was clean, too. During the days she had spent with La Rouquerie she had been able to mend her waist and her skirt, and had washed her linen and shined her shoes. Her past experience was a lesson: she must never give up hope at the darkest moment; she must always remember that there was a silver cloud, if she would only persevere.