SHE was an interpreter; that was far better than pushing trucks. When the day's work was over, acting in the capacity of interpreter, she escorted the two Englishmen to the village inn and engaged a room for them and one for herself, not a miserable garret where she would have to sleep with several others, but a real bedroom all to herself. As they could not speak one word of French, the two Englishmen asked her if she would not take her dinner with them. They ordered a dinner that would have been enough for ten men.

That night she slept in a real bed and between real sheets, yet it was a very long time before she could get to sleep. Even when her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open her excitement was so great that every now and then she would start up in bed. She tried to force herself to be calm. She told herself that things would have to take their course, without her wondering all the time if she were going to be happy or not. That was the only sensible thing to do. Things seemed to be taking such a favorable turn she must wait. But the best arguments when addressed to oneself have never made anyone go to sleep, and the better the argument the more likely one is to keep awake.

The next morning, when the factory whistle blew, she went to the door of the room occupied by the two machinists and knocked, and told them it was time to get up.

They paid no heed to the whistle, however, and it was not until they had taken a bath and made an elaborate toilette, something unknown to the villagers in those parts, and partaken of a hearty breakfast, consisting of a thick, juicy steak, plenty of buttered toast and several cups of tea, that they showed any readiness to get to their work.

Perrine, who had discreetly waited for them outside, wondered if they would ever be ready. When at last they came out, and she tripped behind them to the factory, her one thought was that her grandfather would surely be there ahead of them.

However, it was not until the afternoon that M. Vulfran arrived. He was accompanied by his youngest nephew, Casimir.

The youth looked disdainfully at the work the machinists had done, which in truth was merely in preparation.

"These fellows won't do much before Fabry returns," he said. "That's not surprising considering the supervision you have given them, uncle."

He said this jeeringly, but instead of taking his words lightly, his uncle reprimanded him severely: "If you had been able to attend to this matter, I should not have been forced to have called in this little girl, who until now has only pushed trucks."

Perrine saw Casimir bite his lip in anger, but he controlled himself and said lightly: "If I had foreseen that I should have to give up a government position for a commercial one, I should certainly have learned English in preference to German."

"It is never too late to learn," replied his uncle in a tone that brooked no further parley.

The quick words on both sides had been spoken in evident displeasure.

Perrine had made herself as small as possible. She had not dared move, but Casimir did not even turn his eyes in her direction, and almost at once he went out, giving his arm to his uncle. Then she was able to give free rein to her thoughts. How severe M. Vulfran was with his nephew, but what a disagreeable, horrid youth was that nephew! If they had any affection for one another it certainly was not apparent. Why was it? Why wasn't this nephew kind to his old uncle, who was blind and broken down with sorrow? And why was the old man so hard with a nephew who was taking the place of his own son?

While she was pondering these questions M. Vulfran returned, this time being led in by the manager, who, having placed him in a seat, began to explain to him the work that the machinists were now engaged upon.

Some minutes later she heard M. Benoist calling: "Aurelie! Aurelie!"

She did not move, for she had forgotten that Aurelie was the name that she had given to herself.

The third time he called: "Aurelie!"

She jumped up with a start as she realized that that was the name by which they knew her. She hurried over to them.

"Are you deaf?" demanded Monsieur Benoist.

"No, sir; I was listening to the machinists."

"You can leave me now," said M. Vulfran to his manager.

When the manager had gone he turned to Perrine, who had remained standing before him.

"Can you read, my child?"

"Yes, sir."

"English as well as French?"

"Yes, both the same."

"But while reading English can you turn it into French?"

"When the phrases are not too difficult; yes, sir."

"The daily news from the papers, do you think you could do that?"

"I have never tried that, because if I read an English paper there is no need for me to translate it for myself, because I understand what it says."

"Well, we will try. Tell the machinists that when they want you they can call you, and then come and read from an English paper some articles that I wish to have read to me in French. Go and tell the men and then come back and sit down here beside me."

When she had done what she was told, she sat down beside M. Vulfran and took the newspaper that he handed her, "The Dundee News."

"What shall I read?" she asked as she unfolded it.

"Look for the commercial column."

The long black and white columns bewildered poor little Perrine. She was so nervous and her hands trembled so she wondered if she would ever be able to accomplish what she was asked to do. She gazed from the top of one page to the bottom of another, and still could not find what she was seeking. She began to fear that her employer would get impatient with her for being so slow and awkward.

But instead of getting impatient he told her to take her time. With that keen hearing so subtle with the blind, he had divined what a state of emotion she was in. He could tell that from the rustling of the newspaper she held in her hand.

"We have plenty of time," he said, encouragingly; "besides I don't suppose you have ever read a trade journal before."

"No, sir; I have not," she replied.

She continued to scan the sheets, then suddenly she gave a little cry of pleasure.

"Have you found it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Now look for these words," he said in English: "Linen, Hemp, Jute, Sacks, Twine."

"But, sir, you know English," she cried, involuntarily.

"Five or six words of the trade; that is all, unfortunately," he replied.

When she had found what he required she commenced her translation, but she was so hopelessly slow, hesitating and confused, that in a few moments the beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and hands from sheer agony, despite the fact that from time to time he encouraged her.

"That will do. I understand that ... go on," he said.

And she continued, raising her voice when the hammering blows from the workmen became too loud.

At last she came to the end of the column.

"Now see if there is any news from Calcutta," said her employer.

She scanned the sheets again.

"Yes, here it is," she said, after a moment; "From our special correspondent."

"That's it. Read!"

"The news that we are receiving from Dacca...."

Her voice shook so as she said this name that Monsieur Vulfran's attention was attracted.

"What's the matter?" he said. "Why are you trembling?"

"I don't know," she said, timidly; "perhaps I am nervous."

"I told you not to mind," he chided. "You are doing very much better than I thought."

She read the cables from Dacca which mentioned a gathering of jute along the shores of the Brahmaputra. Then he told her to look and see if there was a cable from Saint Helena.

Her eyes ran up and down the columns until the words "Saint Helena" caught her eye.

"On the 23rd, the English steamer 'Alma' sailed from Calcutta for Dundee; on the 24th, the Norwegian steamer 'Grundloven' sailed from Naraingaudj for Boulogne."

He appeared satisfied.

"That is very good," he said. "I am quite pleased with you."

She wanted to reply, but afraid that her voice would betray her joy, she kept silent.

"I can see that until poor Bendit is better I can make good use of you," he continued.

After receiving an account of the work that the men had done, and telling them to be as quick as possible, he told Perrine to lead him to the manager's office.

"Have I to give you my hand?" she asked, timidly.

"Why, yes, my child," he replied. "How do you think you can guide me otherwise? And warn me when there is anything in the way, and above all don't be absent-minded."

"Oh, I assure you, sir, you can place every confidence in me," she said with emotion.

"You see that I already have confidence," he replied.

She took him gently by the left hand, whilst with his right he held his cane, feeling ahead of him cautiously as he went forward.

They had scarcely left the workshops before they came to the railway tracks, and she thought that she ought to warn him.

"Here are the rails, just here," she said. "Please...."

But he interrupted her.

"That you need not tell me," he said. "I know every bit of the ground round about the works; my head knows it and my feet know it, but it's the unexpected obstacles that we might find on the road that you must tell me about, something that's in the path that should not be. All the ground I know, thoroughly."

It was not only his grounds that he knew, but he knew his people also. When he went through the yards his men greeted him. They not only took their hats off as though he saw them, but they said his name.

"Good morning, sir!... Good morning, Monsieur Vulfran!"

And to a great number he was able to reply by their names: "Good morning, Jacque!" ... "Good morning, Pascal!" He knew the voices of all those who had long been in his employ. When he hesitated, which was rarely, for he knew almost all, he would stop and say: "It's you, is it not?" mentioning the speaker's name.

If he made a mistake he explained why he had done so.

Walking thus, it was a slow walk from the fac tories to the offices. She led him to his armchair; then he dismissed her.

"Until tomorrow," he said; "I shall want you then."