"I leave that to your conscience," said the doctor. "She is an orphan;
up to eighteen, she has no right to what she earns."
"Twelve to eighteen--that's six acres of vineyard!" said the uncle.
"Ay, she's a pretty one, gentle as a lamb, well made and active, and
obedient as a kitten. She were the light o' my poor brother's eyes--"
"I will pay a year in advance," observed the doctor.
"Bless me! say two years, and I'll leave her with you, for she'll be
better off with you than with us; my wife beats her, she can't abide
her. There's none but I to stand up for her, and the little saint of a
creature is as innocent as a new-born babe."
When he heard the last part of this speech, the doctor, struck by the
word "innocent," made a sign to the uncle and took him out into the
courtyard and from thence to the garden; leaving the Rabouilleuse at
the table with Fanchette and Jean-Jacques, who immediately questioned
her, and to whom she naively related her meeting with the doctor.
"There now, my little darling, good-by," said Uncle Brazier, coming
back and kissing Flore on the forehead; "you can well say I've made
your happiness by leaving you with this kind and worthy father of the
poor; you must obey him as you would me. Be a good girl, and behave
nicely, and do everything he tells you."
"Get the room over mine ready," said the doctor to Fanchette. "Little
Flore--I am sure she is worthy of the name--will sleep there in
future.
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