at we cannot enter into His kingdom except we become
as little children?"

"Yes, I know," replied Hetty; "but I don't believe this is exactly what
he meant, do you?"

"A part of what he meant," answered the priest; "not all. First,
docility; and, second, joy: that is what the Church teaches."

"Your Church is better than ours in that respect," said Hetty candidly:
"ours doesn't teach joy; it is pretty much all terror."

"Should a child know terror of its mother?" asked Father Antoine. "The
Church is mother, and the Holy Virgin is mother. Ah, daughter! it will
be a glad day when I see you in the beautiful sheltering arms."

Tears sometimes came to Hetty's eyes at such words as these; and
good Father Antoine went with renewed fervor to his prayers for her
conversion.

In the centre of the village was a square laid out in winding paths, and
surrounded by fir trees. In the middle of this square was a great stone
basin, in which a spring perpetually bubbled up; the basin had a broad
brim, on which the villagers sat when they came of an evening to fill
jugs and bottles with the water. On a bright summer night, the circle
would often widen and widen, by men throwing themselves on the ground;
children toddling from knee to knee; groups standing in eager talk here
and there, until it seemed as if the whole village were gathered around
the spring. These were the times when all the village affairs were
discussed, and all the village gossip retailed from neighbor to
neighbor. The scene was as gay and picturesque as you might see in a
little town of Brittany; and the jargon of the Canadian _patois_ much
more confusing than any dialect one would hear on French soil. Hetty's
New England tongue utterly refused to learn this new mode of speech; but
her quick and retentive ear soon learned its meanings sufficiently to
follow the people in their talk. She often made one of this evening
circle at the spring, and it was a pleasant sight to see the quick stir
of welcome with which her approach was observed.

"Here comes the good Aunt Hibba from the Doctor's House," and mothers
would push children away, and gossips would crowd, and men would stand
up, all to make room for Hetty: then they would gather about her, and
those who could speak English would translate for those who could not;
and everybody would have something to tell her. It was an odd thing that
lovers sought her more than any one else. Many a quarrel Aunt Hibba's
good sen