er over to the edge of the big
bed, from whence she slid down.

The English had abolished slavery in name, but most of the Pani servants
remained. They seldom had any other than their tribal name. Since the
departure of the Bellestres Jeanne's guardian had taken on a new
dignity. She was a tall, grave woman, and much respected by all. No one
would have thought of interfering with her authority over the child.

"Hear the cannon at the Fort and the bells. And everybody will be out!
Pani, give me some breakfast and let me go."

"Nay, nay, child. You cannot go alone in such a crowd as this will be.
And I must set the house straight."

"But Marie De Ber and Pierre are to go. We planned it last night. Pierre
is a big, strong boy, and he can pick his way through a crowd with his
elbows. His mother says he always punches holes through his sleeves."

Jeanne laughed gayly. Pierre was a big, raw-boned fellow, a good guard
anywhere.

"Nay, child, I shall go, too. It will not be long. And here is a choice
bit of bread browned over the coals that you like so much, and the corn
mush of last night fried to a turn."

"Let me run and see Marie a moment--"

"With that head looking as if thou hadst tumbled among the burrs, or
some hen had scratched it up for a nest! And eyes full of dew webs that
are spun in the grass by the spirits of night."

"Look, they are wide open!" She buried her face in a pail of water and
splashed it around as a huge bird might, as she raised her beautiful
laughing orbs, blue now as the midnight sky. And then she carelessly
combed the tangled curls that fell about her like the spray of a
waterfall.

"Thou must have a coif like other French girls, Jeanne. Berthe Campeau
puts up her hair."

"Berthe goes to the Recollets and prays and counts beads, and will run
no more or shout, and sings only dreary things that take the life and
gayety out of you. She will go to Montreal, where her aunt is in a
convent, and her mother cries about it. If I had a mother I would not
want to make her cry. Pani, what do you suppose happened to my mother?
Sometimes I think I can remember her a little."

The face so gay and willful a moment before was suddenly touched with a
sweet and tender gravity.

"She is dead this long time, _petite_. Children may leave their mothers,
but mothers never give up their children unless they are taken from
them."

"Pani, what if the Indian woman had stolen me?"

"But she said you had no