e l'an_" had come to them. Then, and with much
frolicking and wine and music, would their new year begin.

"It is our anniversary, _m'sieu'_," he would say with an air of vast
confidence to the first man he met upon the street. "To-night we keep
open house here." He would wave his hand toward the long, low log
building, clay chinked. "We will be proud of your presence and that of
your frien's."

It had been remarked that the anniversary had come one year upon the
twenty-sixth of May, another year as late as the last of June. Pere
Marquette had laughed softly and had shaken his head. "What matter?"
he had demanded. "I, I marry myself with my beloved Mam'selle Jeanne
the first fine day of spring. _Voila_."

The central door of the Marquette house, broadest and heaviest and most
conspicuous both from its position in the middle of its valiant line of
brothers, had been closed and barred since last night. It gave
entrance to the store; here behind his long counter, peering over boxes
neatly piled or between great heaps of bacon and tobacco and men's
clothing, Pere Marquette looked out upon the world some three hundred
and sixty-four days of the ordinary year. But upon the first day of
spring it was closed and locked until noon. If a man needed plug cut
for his pipe, why then let him borrow from his friend or steal from his
enemy; it was no concern of Pere Marquette. If a woman required flour
for her baking let her do without; it would serve her right for having
failed to remember the great day. . . . Then at high noon, not
measured by any ticking clock in the Settlement, the matter being
decided by Pere Marquette and the sun alone, the middle door was flung
open. The old man, dressed in his best black suit, his newest skull
cap set like a crown upon his head, stood at one side of the entrance,
gravely courteous, his black eyes twinkling, twin withered roses in his
old cheeks. Mere Jeanne, silver buckles on her shoes, her ample form
surrounded almost but not quite by a great white, stiff-starched apron,
a bouquet of flowers in one hand, took her place at the other side.
And then the guests began to arrive.

You could list the men, women, children and four footed live stock of
MacLeod's Settlement upon a printed page and still have room left for a
brief biography of each. They all came, all dressed in their best
holiday raiment, all happy and eager for the celebration. From far
down the Little MacLeod rive