d then bring back a faint echo. It was a great holiday with the
French. The early mass was thronged, somehow the virtue seemed greater
if one went to that. Then there was a procession that marched to the
little chapels outside, which were hardly more than shrines.

Pani went out early and alone. And though the good priest had said to
her, "The child is old enough and should be confirmed," since M.
Bellestre had some objections and insisted that Jeanne should not be
hurried into any sacred promises, and the child herself seemed to have
no desire, they waited.

"But you peril the salvation of her soul. Since she has been baptized
she should be confirmed," said Father Rameau. "She is a child of the
Church. And if she should die!"

"She will not die," said Pani with a strange confidence, "and she is to
decide for herself."

"What can a child know!"

"Then if she cannot know she must be blameless. Monsieur Bellestre was a
very good man. And, M'sieu, some who come to mass, to their shame be it
said, cheat their neighbors and get drunk, and tempt others to drink."

"Most true, but that doesn't lessen our duty."

M. Bellestre had not come yet. This time a long illness had intervened.

Jeanne went out in the procession and sang in the hymns and the rosary.
And she heard about the betrothal. The house had been crowded with
guests and Marie had on a white frock and a beautiful sash, and her hair
was curled.

In spite of her protests Jeanne did feel deeply hurt that she should be
left out. Marie had made a timid plea for her friend.

"We cannot ask all the children in the town," said her mother
emphatically. "And no one knows whether she has any real position. She
is a foundling, and no company for you."

Pani went down the river with her in the afternoon. She was gayety
itself, singing little songs and laughing over everything so that she
quite misled her nurse into thinking that she really did not care. Then
she made Pani tell some old legends of the spirits who haunted the lakes
and rivers, and she added to them some she had heard Wenonah relate.

"I should like to live down in some depths, one of the beautiful caves
where there are gems and all lovely things," said the child.

"As if there were not lovely things in the forests. There are no birds
in the waters. And fishes are not as bright and merry as squirrels."

"That is true enough. I'll stay on the earth a little while longer,"
laughingly. "But look at the