coming day and of the New Year, and Hope, with her warm wings, broods over the frozen night and softens it.
My children have all gone to church, but I have missed it for the first time in my life, and I am here alone with my dog Citron, and the household cat Patapon. A little while ago we were all gathered round the hearth, and I was telling Glodie wonderful fairy tales. You should see her open her round eyes at the story of Bout-de-Canard and the little bald chicken, or of the boy who made a fortune out of his cock by selling it to people who wanted to know when the day was coming, so that they could carry it away in their carts. It was too amusing to see her, and the others listening and laughing, every one putting in his word.
Sometimes when we were silent for a minute we could hear the water bubbling in the kettle, a log falling in the fire, the cricket's shrill voice, and, outside, the wind sweeping against the window. I love these snug winter evenings, the silence, the sense of intimacy, when my fancies can wander far afield and return safe to the home nest.
I have been making up my budget for the last year, and I find that in six months I have lost all that I possessed; my wife, my house, my money, and my legs; and yet, absurd as it sounds to say
