We both cried; but at last we took courage. We said to each other
that we couldn't stay together, because there's hardly enough to keep
one person alive on our little handful of land; and then Marie's getting
old--here she is nearly sixteen--and she must do as others do, earn her
bread and help her poor mother."
"Mere Guillette," said the old ploughman, "if fifty francs was all that
was needed to put an end to your troubles and make it unnecessary for
you to send your daughter away, why, I would help you to find them,
although fifty francs begins to mean something to people like us. But we
must consult good sense as well as friendship in everything. If you were
saved from want for this winter, you wouldn't be safe from future want,
and the longer your daughter postpones taking the step, the harder it
will be for you and for her to part. Little Marie is getting to be tall
and strong, and she has nothing to do at home. She might fall into lazy
habits--"
"Oh! as far as that goes, I'm not afraid," said Mere Guillette. "Marie's
as brave as a rich girl at the head of a big establishment could be. She
doesn't sit still a minute with her arms folded, and when we haven't any
work, she cleans and rubs our poor furniture and makes every piece shine
like a looking-glass.
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