I like them so well. I go to their capital on some
business, and then to France. But I shall return in a year, perhaps. A
year is not very long."

"Just a winter and a summer. There are many of them to life?"

"To some lives, yes. I hope there will be to yours, happy ones."

"I am always happy when I can run about or sail on the river. There are
so many delightful things when no one bothers you."

"And the bothers are, I suppose, when some one considers your way not
the best for you. We all meet with such things in life."

"My own way is the best," she replied, willfully, a daring light
shining in her eyes. "Do I not know what gives me the most pleasure? If
I want to go out and sing with the birds or run mad races with the dogs,
or play with the children outside, that is the thing which gives me joy
and makes my blood rush warm and bright in my veins. Monsieur, I told
you I did not like to be shut up."

"Well, well. Remain in your little cottage this afternoon, and let me
come and talk to you. I think I will not make you unhappy."

"Your voice is so sweet, Monsieur, but if you say disagreeable things,
if you want me to learn to sew and to read--and to spin--the De Bers
have just had a spinning wheel come. It is a queer thing and hums
strangely. And Marie will learn to spin, her mother says. Then she will
never be able to go in the woods for wild grapes and nuts. No, I cannot
spend my time being so busy. And I do not care for stockings. Leggings
are best for winter. And Touchas makes me moccasins."

Her feet and ankles were bare now. Dainty and shapely they were, and
would have done for models.

"Monsieur, the soft grass and the warm sand is so pleasant to one's
feet. I am glad I am not a grand lady to wear clumsy shoes. Why, I could
not run."

St. Armand laughed. He had never seen such a free, wild, human thing
rejoicing exultantly in its liberty. It seemed almost a shame to capture
her--like caging a bird. But she could not always be a child.

General Wayne had made his round and given some orders, and now he
reappeared.

"I want to present you to this little girl of Detroit," began M. St.
Armand, "so that in years to come, when she hears of all your exploits,
she will be proud that she had the honor. Jeanne Angelot is the small
maid's name. And this is our brave General Wayne, who has persuaded the
Indians to peace and amity, and taught the English to keep their word.
But he can fight as well as talk."