There was no milk in the cupboard; so he took a pitcher and walked down the road a few rods to the next house, where lived the village milkman.

He knocked, and the door was opened by the milkman's wife.

A frightened look came upon her when she saw who it was.
"Non, non!" she said, and shut the door in his face.

He stared blankly at the door for a moment, then turned round and stood looking down into the road, with the pitcher in his hand.

The milkman's little boy, Maxime, came running round the corner of the house.