it said nothing of the small repairs for which her own
purse paid. Was it a silent way of making amends to the old walls for
having deserted their tenets?

"Cod-fish balls for breakfast on Sunday morning, of course," said Miss
Lois, "and fried hasty-pudding. On Wednesdays a boiled dinner. Pies on
Tuesdays and Saturdays."

The pins stood in straight rows on her pincushion; three times each week
every room in the house was swept, and the floors as well as the
furniture dusted. Beans were baked in an earthen pot on Saturday night,
and sweet-cake was made on Thursday. Rast Pronando often dropped in to
tea on Thursday. Winter or summer, through scarcity or plenty, Miss Lois
never varied her established routine, thereby setting an example, she
said, to the idle and shiftless. And certainly she was a faithful
guide-post, continually pointing out an industrious and systematic way,
which, however, to the end of time, no French-blooded, French-hearted
person will ever travel, unless dragged by force. The villagers
preferred their lake trout to Miss Lois's salt cod-fish, their savory
stews and soups to her corned beef, their tartines to her corn-meal
puddings, and their eau-de-vie to her green tea; they loved their
disorder and their comfort; her bar soap and scrubbing-brush were a
horror to their eyes. They washed the household clothes two or three
times a year: was not that enough? Of what use the endless labor of this
sharp-nosed woman with glasses over her eyes at the church-house? Were
not, perhaps, the glasses the consequences of such toil? And her figure
of a long leanness also?

The element of real heroism, however, came into Miss Lois's life in her
persistent effort to employ Indian servants. The old mission had been
established for their conversion and education; any descendant of that
mission, therefore, should continue to the utmost of her ability the
beneficent work. The meeting-house was closed, the school-house
abandoned, she could reach the native race by no other influence save
personal; that personal influence, then, she would use. Through long
years had she persisted, through long years would she continue to
persist. A succession of Chippewa squaws broke, stole, and skirmished
their way through her kitchen with various degrees of success, generally
in the end departing suddenly at night with whatever booty they could
lay their hands on. It is but justice to add, however, that this was not
much, a rigid syste