My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
into the arms of the little boy.
My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
The little boy's eyes grew sad.
"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
to-morrow."
"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
behind him.
"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
scolding."
The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
"There is no singing," said she.
"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
houses.
"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
like to see the fire."
"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
it very much if you would give me a cricket."
"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
joining in the conversation.
"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
child, who went away perfectly happy.
When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
* * * * *
Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
express commands or requests.
What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
Memorize:
In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
And I dream in the firelight's glow,
And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
That I listened to long ago.
Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
Like an echoing, answering cry,--
Little we care for the outside world,
My friend the cricket, and I.
For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
That this earth is a silly, strange place,
And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
But I know he has found it far better to sing
Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
Little we care for the outside world,
My friend the cricket, and I.
* * * * *
_34_
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