CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY LIVED ON THE CLOUD.
When the chinks of moonlight had been replaced by brighter chinks of sunlight, the new doctor who had come so gallantly to the aid of the sufferers on Cloud Island opened his eyes upon his first day there.
He heard some slight sounds, and looked over the edge of his bed to see a little table set forth in the broad passage between the two stores of hay.

A slip of a girl, of about fourteen years of age, was arranging dishes upon it.

When Caius scrambled down, she informed him, with childish timidity of mien, that Madame Le Maitre had said that he was to have his breakfast there before he went in to see "father." The child spoke French, but Caius spoke English because it relieved his mind to do so.
"Upon my word!" he said, "Madame Le Maitre keeps everything running in very good order, and takes prodigious care of us all." "Oh, oui, monsieur," replied the child sagely, judging from his look of amusement and the name he had repeated that this was the proper answer.
The breakfast, which was already there, consisted of fish, delicately baked, and coffee.

The young doctor felt exceedingly odd, sitting in the cart-track of a barn and devouring these viands from a breakfast-table that was tolerably well set out with the usual number of dishes and condiments.

The big double door was closed to keep out the cold wind, but plenty of air and numerous sunbeams managed to come in.