"

"Pierre is a big lad, Madame, and a great help to his father. Children
are a pleasure and comfort in one's old age if they do well. And thine
are being well brought up. Marie is so good and steady. It is not wisdom
for a man like me to choose a flighty girl."

"Marie will make a good wife," returned Madame, confidently.

And so when Marie returned it was all settled and Antoine had been
invited to tea. Marie was in a desperate flutter. Of course there was
nothing for her to say and she would not have had the courage to say it
if there had been. But she could not help comparing him with Martin
Lavosse, and some of the young men who greeted her at church. If his
face were not quite so red, and his figure so clumsy! His hands, too,
were broad with stubby ends to the fingers. She looked at her own; they
were quite shapely, for youth has a way of throwing off the marks of
toil that are ready enough to come back in later life.

"_Ma fille_," said her mother when the lover had wished them all good
night, rather awkwardly, and her father had gone out to walk with him;
"_ma fille_, Monsieur Beeson has done us the honor to ask for thy hand.
He is a good, steady, well-to-do man with a nice home to take thee to.
He does not carouse nor spend his money foolishly, but will always stay
at home with thee, and make thee happy. Many a girl will envy thy lot.
He wants the wedding about Christmas time, so the betrothal will be
soon, in a week or so. Heaven bless and prosper thee, my child! A good
daughter will not make an ill wife. Thy father is very proud."

Rose and Marie looked unutterable things at each other when they went to
bed. There were little pitchers in the trundle-bed, and their parents in
the next room.

"If he were not so old!" whispered Rose.

"And if he could dance! But with that figure!"

"Like a buffalo!" Marie's protest forced its way up from her heart. "And
I have just begun to think of things that make one happy. There will be
dances at Christmastide."

"I wonder if one is sure to love one's husband," commented Rose.

"It would be wicked not to. But how does one begin? I am so afraid of
his loud voice."

"Girls, cease whispering and go to sleep. The night will be none too
long," called their mother.

Marie wiped some tears from her eyes. But it was a great comfort to her
when she was going to church the next Sunday and walking behind the
Bronelle girls to hear Hortense say:--

"I have my cap set for