"Ma"am，" said he， blushing at the boldness of his request， "I should like it very much if you would give me a cricket.""A cricket！" said the baker"s wife， smiling. "What in the world would you do with a cricket， my little friend？ I would gladly give you all in the house to get rid of them， they run about so.""Oh， ma"am， give me one， only one， if you please！" said the child， clasping his little hands under the big loaf. "They say that crickets bring good luck into houses； and perhaps if we had one at home mother， who has so much trouble， wouldn"t cry any more.""Why does your mother cry？" said my friend， who could no longer help joining in the conversation.
"On account of her bills， sir，" said the little fellow. " Father is ill， and mother works very hard， but she cannot pay them all."My friend took the child， and with him the big loaf， into his arms； and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile， the baker"s wife had gone to the bake-house. She asked her husband to catch four crickets， and put them into a box with holes in the cover， so that they might have air to breathe. She gave the box to the child， who went away perfectly happy.
When he had gone， the baker"s wife and my friend exclaimed together， " Poor little fellow ！" Then the former took down her account-book and， finding the page where the mother"s purchases were entered， made a great dash all down the page， and wrote at the bottom， " Paid."Meanwhile my friend， to lose no time， had put up in paper all the money in his pockets， where fortunately he had quite a sum that day， and begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little boy， with her bill receipted， and a note in which he told her she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
They gave it to a baker"s boy with long legs， and told him to make haste. The child， with his big loaf， his four crickets， and his short legs， could not run very fast， so that when he reached home he found his mother， for the first timein many weeks， with her eyes raised from her work， and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things that had worked this change， and I do not think he was mistaken. Without the crickets and his good little heart， would this happy change have taken place in his mother"s fortunes？
From the French of P. J. Stahl
Author.-P. J. Stahl was the pen-name of Pierre Jules Hetzel， a French writer， who was born in 1814 and who died at Monte Carlo in 1886. He held office in the French Ministry from 1848-1851. When the Second Republic was overthrown， he fled to Belgium， but afterwards came back and settled in Paris as a bookseller and publisher. His writings are mostly humorous， his best-known books being Le Diable à Paris， and Voyage où il vous plaira.
General Notes.-There is so much conversation in this story that youcould easily make a play of it. In order to keep the play to one scene， let the boy come back to the shop and tell what he found when he reached home.
Lesson 61
DAVID VISITS HIS AuNT
[Scene.-A garden with a gate opening on the highroad. David Copperfield， ragged and footsore， is peering over the garden gate， as if afraid to come in. Aunt Betsey Trotwood， very stiff and straight， stalks out of the house into the garden. She has gardening gloves on， and carries a fork and some plants.]
Aunt (seeing David and waving her gardening fork).-Go away！ Go along！ No boys here！
[She begins to plant her plants. David enters and walks overto her timidly. He touches her arm. She starts up.]
David.-If you please， ma"am！ (Aunt gets up.) If you please， aunt！
Aunt (in a tone of amazement).-Eh？
David.-If you please， aunt， I am your nephew.
Aunt.-My goodness！ (She sits flat down on the path.)David.-I am David Copperfield， of Blunderstone， in Suffolk-where you came on the night when I was born and saw my dear mamma. I have been very unhappy since she died. I have been slighted， and taught nothing， and thrown upon myself， and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. I was robbed at first setting out， and havewalked all the way， and have never slept in a bed since I began the journey. (David begins to cry.)Aunt (hastily getting up and rushing to comfort David).- Mercy on us！ Mercy on us！ Janet！ Janet！ (Janet， the maid， rushes out of the house.) Go upstairs， give my compliments to Mr. Dick， and say I wish to speak to him.
Janet.- Yes， ma"am； I"ll go at once， ma"am.
[Janet goes into the house. Presently Mr. Dick， a simple old man， comes into the garden， laughing.]
Aunt.-Mr. Dick， don"t be a fool， because nobody can be cleverer than you， when you choose. We all know that. So don"t be a fool， whatever you are. (Mr. Dick stops laughing.) You have heard me mention David Copperfield. Now， don"t pretend not to have a memory， because you and I know better.
Mr. Dick.-David Copperfield？ David Copperfield？ Oh，yes， to be sure！ David， certainly！
Aunt.-Well， this is his boy-his son. He would be as like his father as it is possible to be， if he were not so like his mother， too.
Mr. Dick.-His son？ David"s son？ Indeed ！
Aunt.-Yes， and he has done a pretty piece of business. He has run away. (She shakes her head.) Now， here you see young David Copperfield， and the question I put to you is， what shall I do with him？
Mr. Dick (scratching his head).-What shall you do with him？ Oh， do with him？
Aunt (very gravely， with her forefinger held up).-Yes！ Come，I want some very sound advice.
Mr. Dick (looking vacantly at David).-Why， if I were you， I should wash him！
Aunt (triumphantly).-Janet， Mr. Dick sets us all right.
Heat the bath！