Bees were out buzzing, their curious accompaniment to their work. Or
were they scolding because flowers were not sweeter? Yellow butterflies
made a dazzle in the air, that was transparent to-day. The white birches
were scattering their last year's garments, and she gathered quite a
roll. Ah, what a wonderful thing it was to live and breathe this
fragrant air! It exhilarated her with joy as drinking wine might
another. The mighty spirit of nature penetrated every pulse.

From a little farther up she could see the blue waters, and the distant
horizon seemed to bound the lake. Would she ever visit the grand places
of the world? What was a great city such as Quebec like? Would she stay
here for years and years and grow old like Pani? For somehow she could
not fancy herself in a home with a husband like Marie Beeson, or Madelon
Freche, or several of the girls a little older than herself. The
commonplaces of life, the monotonous work, the continual admiration and
approval of one man who seemed in no way admirable would be slow death.

"Which is a warning that I must not get married," she thought, and her
gay laugh rippled under the trees in soft echoes.

She felt more certain of her resolve that evening when Pierre came.

"Where were you all the afternoon?" he said, almost crossly. "I was here
twice. I felt sure you would expect me."

Jeanne flushed guiltily. She knew she had gone to escape such an
infliction, and she was secretly glad, yet somehow her heart pricked
her.

"Oh, you surely have not forgotten that I live half the time in the
woods;" glancing up mischievously.

"Haven't you outgrown that? There was enough of it yesterday," he said.

"You ought not to complain. What a welcome you had, and what a triumph,
too!"

"Oh, that was not much. You should see the leaping and the wrestling up
north. And the great bounds with the pole! That's the thing when one has
a long journey. And the snowshoes--ah, that is the sport!"

"You liked it up there?"

"I was desperately homesick at first. I had half a mind to run away. But
when I once got really used to the people and the life--it was the
making of me, Jeanne."

He stretched up proudly and swelled up his broad chest, enjoying his
manhood.

"You will go back?" she asked, tentatively.

"Well--that depends. Father wants me to stay. He begins to see that I am
worth something. But pouf! how do people live in this crowded up town in
the winter! It is dirtier than ev