(Continued from page 263.)

The watcher at the fÊte had made no plans. His ideas did not develop quickly, but one thing was certain: here was a chance ready to his hand. Only an old woman, evidently rheumatic, was with Estelle. If she had no other protector, his course was easy. Yes, it was well that the Prefect and his son were there. It prevented the man from being in too great a hurry. He must mature his plans. To further the process, he crept up under shadow of the trees, to the side of the shed near to which the party were seated. Jack's selection of places enabled him to get close enough to hear every word that was said. Bitter was his disappointment. It had been the joy of Julien to find that the conversation could be conducted in French, of which language the watcher possessed but a slight smattering. He had picked up enough, however, to learn that Estelle would be at the fÊte the next day; but at what hour, or with whom, he could not understand. The probabilities were in favour of the old lady being the child's sole protector; the boy, even if he did accompany them, need not count. He could be made short work of.

Julien was by no means the only suitor who pressed for the honour of dancing with Estelle. No less a person than the village doctor himself came to beg her to tread a measure with him in the quadrille which was just forming. They might make up a select little party of their own. Mrs. Wright, smiling, but firm, said the little girl was not equal to the exertion, and begged the doctor not to undo all the good he had done during the many months of illness and delicacy by urging her to over-exert herself now. So the good man, putting his annoyance in his pocket, joined the group, much to the anger of Julien. Julien did not care for the doctor's jokes, and disliked his engaging Estelle's attention, and plaguing her with compliments. As he had promised himself the pleasure of meeting Estelle next day at the fÊte, he was not sorry that Jack's return broke up the party.

Estelle could scarcely sleep that night from excitement. It had been a delightful evening, and there was all the pleasure of the next day to look forward to. She had not seen the shadow so close to her at the shed; neither had Jack. The shadow kept dark in dark places. It was quite possible that the man had not seen Jack. The coming of the doctor had caused a little stir, and fear of detection had made the shadow draw back, out of sight of the little group. When he stood forward again to watch Mrs. Wright and the little girl move away, it was impossible to distinguish in the crowd who belonged to whom.

CHAPTER XV.

The next morning was not brighter and clearer than Estelle's face as she flew about, helping Goody to make everything ready for their early dinner, specially early that day, as they were to set off for the fÊte as soon as it was over.

'Julien Matou is going to show me the celebrated elephant, called "NapolÉon,"' announced the little girl, as they were about to start. Mrs. Wright was casting a careful eye round the room, to see that all was as it ought to be before she left.

Jack looked up sharply. 'There must be no wandering away from me or Mother, Missy,' he said, almost sternly. 'Julien Matou is but a boy, and cannot look properly after you.'

'He says he can,' replied Estelle, dancing along in front of Jack and Goody, as they descended the steep path to the village. 'He says there is so much to see, and when you are tired, he will take me. But I would rather go with you.'

'You see, Jack,' said his mother, as the little girl ran too far in advance to hear, 'your fears about the child last night did not come to anything. I don't know why we should be so very particular to-day. Every one in Tout-Petit knows her, and she is not at all likely to come to harm among them.'

'Right enough,' returned Jack, quietly; 'that is, as far as our own people go. But you forget, Mother, this fÊte brings strangers and loafers who may be most undesirable. I am glad, and—I must confess it—very much relieved to find that yesterday evening passed off without any mishap. I looked in your direction several times, and was glad to think you had the doctor, M. le PrÉfet, and Fargis close to you.'

Mrs. Wright laughed. 'I can't help it,' she said; 'it sounds as if we were threatened with some terrible accident; what these French call "un coup de main," and as if only having our friends with us prevented it.'

Jack made no answer.

'You're not angry, are you, my son? I don't want you to worry yourself and us by fancies. That's all. Let the child enjoy herself.'

Jack merely said, 'All right, Mother; I understand.' He was walking very straight and still; his head in the air, his shoulders squared. Mrs. Wright looked up at the set face so high above her, and was sorry she had spoken. Jack smiled as she put a caressing hand on to his arm, though the look in his eyes did not satisfy her. He called Estelle back to him as soon as they came upon any stragglers from the fÊte, and took her hand in a way that neither his mother nor the child ventured to resist.

Estelle was too much interested to think anything about it; indeed, she preferred the security of his presence.

As they approached the fÊte, the noise of the revellers grew louder, and soon they came upon the bonfires, where joints of meat, fowls, and geese were being roasted on spits. The children and young men were offering assistance, or dashing about amidst a din of voices. A little further on, a booth, with hot fried potatoes cut in slices, had a crowd round it.

They were by this time near the great streets of booths, up and down which the majority of the people strolled; some buying articles long wished for, but unobtainable at any other time; some eagerly visiting every show in succession; other shooting at targets for prizes—clay pipes and piles of thin hardbake in the shape of a cornucopia, five to each successful shot, or bags of nuts.

Julien Matou met them at the shooting range, which was at the first booth. He wanted Estelle to walk with him, that he might show her all the sights that interested him. Jack, however, would not let go of her hand, and the four had to walk more or less abreast when the pressure of the passers-by permitted. He did not object to plunging into all the fun of the fair in a moderate way. There were the mountebanks, and the dancers, and the driving team of fleas and the little dogs that acted a play.

Finally, to Estelle's delight, they reached the circus. Here Jack secured good seats, and for the next hour she and Julien were enchanted with the riding, the driving, the clown; and lastly the performance of the great elephant which shot the gun—a mortar which produced an explosion quite startling for its size. This wound up the entertainment, though Estelle would have liked it to continue indefinitely. She felt quite depressed as she followed the rest of the crowd leaving the marquee, and heard the men proclaiming that the next performance began at eight o'clock.

She had been charmed with everything. As they forced their way through the noisy crew, and Jack saw that the streets of booths were full of an increasing number of persons more or less excited, he proposed to take the other way back. Passing between two booths, they came out at the back of the rows, where it was comparatively quiet. It gave them greater space to move, but it was not pleasant walking. Every now and then they came across piles of dingy straw, or a bundle of old rags, or odds and ends of soiled draperies, which had become almost too worn out to use, or wooden cases which had seen many journeys, and were overflowing with shavings and paper. This was indeed a contrast to the life and brightness on the other side.

Here was a man who had sold them some chocolates in the most smiling, obsequious manner; now he sat huddled up on a wooden case, eating something out of a grimy, but gaudy cotton handkerchief. At his feet were two thin, miserable-looking children, both dressed as acrobats. Out of the grimy handkerchief he handed them some indescribable mess, which they seized eagerly, and ate hurriedly. A little further on, a woman, wrapped in a big shawl, was scolding a small girl; she was one of the children soon to appear in the fairy scene of the play, which was being acted in the marquee they were passing. The child looked forlorn enough as she stood sobbing and shivering in her airy muslin dress, her arms and neck bare, and her feet shod with the thinnest of white shoes. 'They have stolen my bright franc,' she sobbed. The woman gave her an angry shake, and it went to Estelle's heart to see how the thin, meagre little body shrank together after it. A tiny boy in a bright yellow and red costume, with yellow cap and bells, watched the scene; he had a puckered little face, down which the tears were washing off the paint. His little soul was full of anger against the persecutor of his sister, but he was too tiny to defend her. All he could do was to choke down his wrath like a man, and comfort her when they should be alone again.

The scene was too much for Jack. He could not go by and let the helpless suffer. Dropping Estelle's hand for a moment, he went up to the woman, holding out some coins in his hand.

'How much has the child lost?' he asked sternly.

'It is a new franc that a good lady gave her. She should have brought it to me!' screamed the woman. Then catching sight of the glitter of silver in the sailor's hand, she cried in altered tones, 'but, Monsieur, you see she is but a child, and though I must not let her lose things—— '

'I didn't lose it—it was stolen,' sobbed the child.

'Well, here's your franc,' said Jack, interrupting some exclamation which the woman was about to make. 'Now let the child alone.'

He was slipping some coins into the hands of the children also, when a cry from Estelle made him turn hastily.

(Continued on page 274.)