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expressly ordered to go at once to the station. Nothing would induce them to alight, though the landlord came out in person and begged them to do so; and, after a protracted struggle and a drive all over the town, they finally reached the depot.

Here another demand for double fare was promptly quenched by an appeal to the chef de station, who, finding that Mademoiselle was wide awake, crushed the driver and saw justice done.

Exhausted but triumphant, the three at length found themselves rolling slowly toward Morlaix through a green and blooming country, so unlike the New England spring they had left behind that they rejoiced like butterflies in the sunshine.