To the truth of which self-commendation we bore good testimony.

“Now about the excursions,” said M. Hellard.  “I recommend you to go to-morrow to St. Thegonnec and Guimiliau, the next day to St. Jean-du-Doigt and Plougasnou, and the third day to Landerneau and Le Folgoet.  The two first by carriage, the last by train.”

So it was arranged, and we were about to separate when in came our hostess of that little auberge by the river-side, A la halte des Pecheurs, carrying a barrel of oysters.  She had walked all the way, and though the sun shone brilliantly, she was armed with a huge cotton umbrella that would have roofed a fair-sized tent.

“Madame Mirmiton!” cried M. Hellard; “and with a barrel of oysters, too!  You are welcome as fine weather at the Fete-Dieu!  But why you and not your husband?”

“Ah, monsieur!” replied Madame Mirmiton:  “Figurez-vous, my husband was running after that naughty girl of mine, stumbled over the cat and sprained his ankle.  He will be quite a week getting well again.”

“And the cat?” asked our host, comically.

“Pauvre Minette!” answered Madame Mirmiton, with tears in her voice.  “She flew up the chimney.  We have never seen her since—­two days ago.”

“Well, whether you or your bon homme bring them, these oysters are equally a propos.  I am sure ces messieurs will enjoy our natives for dejeuner.  I have it!” he cried, striking his forehead.  “You shall have an early dejeuner, and start immediately after for St. Thegonnec, instead of delaying it until to-morrow.  You will have plenty of time, and must profit by the fine weather.  I will order dejeuner at once, and the carriage in an hour.”

So are there times when our days, and occasionally the whole course of our lives, are apparently changed by the turning of a straw.

Having mentioned the oysters, we ought also to record their excellence.  Catherine flew about the salle a manger, served us with her own hands, and gave us her whole attention, for we had the room to ourselves.  She was proud of our praise.

“There is nothing better than our lobsters and oysters,” she remarked.  “I always say so, and Mirmiton always brings us the best of the good.  But to-day it was Madame who came in.  Ah! the Cat!” laughing satirically.  “The cat comes in for everything, everywhere.  She is a domestic animal invented for two reasons:  to catch mice and to furnish an excuse for whatever happens.  I dare affirm it was a glass too much and not the cat that caused the bon homme to sprain his ankle.”

But we who had heard Madame Mirmiton’s chapter and verse, were of a different opinion.  Every rule has an exception, and the cat is certainly in fault—­sometimes.

We started for St. Thegonnec.  Monsieur packed us into the victoria, a heavy vehicle well matched by the horse and the man.  We should certainly not fly on the wings of the wind.