down a spy-glass, and looked at the
moving speck. "Yes, it is the train. I can see the dogs, and Denis
himself. I will go over to the village with you, I think. I expect
letters."

Pere Michaux's correspondence was large. From many a college and mission
station came letters to this hermit of the North, on subjects as various
as the writers: the flora of the region, its mineralogy, the Indians and
their history, the lost grave of Father Marquette (in these later days
said to have been found), the legends of the fur-trading times, the
existing commerce of the lakes, the fisheries, and kindred subjects were
mixed with discussions kept up with fellow Latin and Greek scholars
exiled at far-off Southern stations, with games of chess played by
letter, with recipes for sauces, and with humorous skirmishing with New
York priests on topics of the day, in which the Northern hermit often
had the best of it.

A hurrah in the kitchen, an opening of doors, a clattering in the hall,
and the boys appeared, followed by old Pierre, bearing aloft a pudding
enveloped in steam, exhaling fragrance, and beautiful with raisins,
currants, and citron--rarities regarded by Louis, Gabriel, and Andre
with eager eyes.

"But it was for your dinner," said Anne.

"It is still for my dinner. But it would have lasted three days, and now
it will end its existence more honorably in one," replied the priest,
beginning to cut generous slices.

Tita was the last to come forward. She felt herself obliged to set down
all the marks of her various recitations in a small note-book after each
lesson; she kept a careful record, and punished or rewarded herself
accordingly, the punishments being long readings from some religious
book in her corner, murmured generally half aloud, to the exasperation
of Miss Lois when she happened to be present, Miss Lois having a
vehement dislike for "sing-song." Indeed, the little, soft, persistent
murmur sometimes made even Anne think that the whole family bore their
part in Tita's religious penances. But what could be said to the child?
Was she not engaged in saving her soul?

The marks being at last all set down, she took her share of pudding to
the fire, and ate it daintily and dreamily, enjoying it far more than
the boys, who swallowed too hastily; far more than Anne, who liked the
simplest food. The priest was the only one present who appreciated
Pierre's skill as Tita appreciated it. "It is delicieux," she said,
softly