Let me in." Alice was at the door in a minute, unbarring it.

M.Roussillon entered, armed to the teeth, the water dribbling from his buckskin clothes.
"Pouf!" he exclaimed, "my throat is like dust." His thoughts were diving into the stores under the floor.

"I am famished.

Dear children, dear little ones! They are glad to see papa! Where is your mama ?" He had Alice in his arms and Jean clung to his legs.

Madame Roussillon, to be sure of no mistake, lighted a lamp with a brand that smoldered on the hearth and held it up, then, satisfied as to her husband's identity, set it on a shelf and flung herself into the affectionate group with clumsy abandon, making a great noise.
"Oh, my dear Gaspard!" she cried as she lunged forward.