His name it is Godfrey, the son of an English pasteur, a man who fear God in the right way." There was something so absurd in the old gentleman's appearance and method of address, that Miss Ogilvy, who had a sense of humour, was obliged to turn away to hide her mirth.

Recovering, she answered: "I think this is your little boy, Monsieur le Pasteur," and she indicated the tall and handsome Godfrey, who stood gazing at his future instructor open-mouthed.

Whoever he had met in his visions, the Pasteur Boiset was not one of them.

Never, asleep or waking, had he seen anyone in the least like him.
The clergyman peered at Godfrey, studying him from head to foot.
"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, "I understood he was quite, quite leetle, not a big young man who will eat much and want many things.

Well, he will be _bon compagnon_ for Juliette, and Madame too, she like the big better than the leetle.