She looked around and saw a long, low building, which might have been a house, but which might serve for anything else. The walls were made of bits of stone, wood and plaster. Even tin boxes were used in its construction. The roof was made of tarred canvas and cardboard, and most of the window panes were of paper, although in one or two instances there was some glass. The man who designed it was another Robinson Crusoe, and his workman a man Friday. A one-armed man with a shaggy beard was sorting out rags and throwing them into the baskets around him. "Don't step on my dogs," he cried; "come nearer." She did as she was told. "Are you the owner of the Guillot Field?" she asked. "That's me!" replied the man. In a few words she told him what she wanted. So as not to waste his time while listening, he poured some red wine out of a bottle that stood on the ground and drank it down at a gulp. "It can be arranged if you pay in advance," he said, sizing her up. "How much?" she asked. "Forty sous a week for the wagon and twenty for the donkey," he replied. "That's a lot of money," she said, hesitatingly. "That's my price." "Your summer price?" "Yes, my summer price." "Can my donkey eat the thistles?" "Yes, and the grass also if his teeth are strong enough." "We can't pay for the whole week because we are only going to stay one day. We are going through Paris on our way to Amiens, and we want to rest." "Well, that's all right; six sous a day for the cart and three for the donkey." One by one she pulled out nine sous from the pocket in her skirt. "That's for the first day," she said, handing them to the man. "You can tell your people they can all come in," he said, "How many are there? If it's a whole company it's two sous extra for each person." "I have only my mother." "All right; but why didn't your mother come and settle this?" "She is in the wagon, ill." "Ill! Well, this isn't a hospital." Perrine was afraid that he would not let her sick mother come in. "I mean she's a little bit tired. We've come a long way." "I never ask people where they come from," replied the man gruffly. He pointed to a corner of the field, and added: "You can put your wagon over there and tie up the donkey. And if it squashes one of my pups you'll pay me five francs, one hundred sous ... understand?" As she was going he called out: "Will you take a glass of wine?" "No, thanks," she replied; "I never take wine." "Good," he said; "I'll drink it for you." He drained another glass, then returned to his collection of rags. As soon as she had installed Palikare in the place that the man had pointed out to her, which was accomplished not without some jolts, despite the care which she took, Perrine climbed up into the wagon. "We've arrived at last, poor mama," she said, bending over the woman. "No more shaking, no more rolling about," said the woman weakly. "There, there; I'll make you some dinner," said Perrine cheerfully. "What would you like?"