"Sometimes we go away into the ball-room and dance," she said,
"that is when papa is losing; he says, 'Madelon, _mon enfant_, I
see we shall do nothing here to-night, let us go and dance.'
But sometimes he does nothing but win, and then we stop till
the table closes, and he makes a great deal of money. Do you
ever make money in that way, Monsieur?" she added naively.
"Indeed I do not," replied Graham.
"It is true that everyone has not the same way," said the
child, with an air of being well informed, and evidently
regarding her father's way as a profession like another, only
superior to most. "What do you do, Monsieur?"
"I am going to be a doctor, Madelon."
"A doctor," she said reflecting; "I do not think that can be a
good way. I only know one doctor, who cured me when I was ill
last winter; but I know a great many gentlemen who make money
like papa. Can you make a fortune with ten francs, Monsieur?"
"I don't think I ever tried," answered Horace.
"Ah, well, papa can; I have often heard him say, 'Give me only
ten francs, _et je ferai fortune!_' "
There was something at once so droll and so sad about this
child, with her precocious knowledge and ignorant simplicity,
that the lad's honest tender heart was touched with a sudden
pity as he listened to her artless chatter.
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