d silk hat, and with
face pale, but of undiscourageable obserfulness, though without doubt
repulsed by the father's attitude from a front attack on the position,
was taking the three steps in the garden necessary to bring him
alongside the gallery. And, unobserved, down beside her dress, the
maiden's fair hand was dropping him a sprig of lilac.

Within, the grandfather bent crooked over his violin.

Our traveller halted, there was a whisper, and the music stopped.

"Salut, Monsieur," cried the householder, stumbling down the steps and
hurrying half-way across the garden, where he took up a position,
"Monsieur is tired. Will he honour my roof? All here is yours, and I and
my family are at your service. Enter, Monsieur."

A dramatic gesture of humility recalled at once the man in blue
homespun, who had addressed the crowd at Zotique's.

"Good evening, Mr. Benoit," the Ontarian said, opening the gate and
mustering his French, "I shall be charmed."

The air immediately bustled with hospitality.

"Come in, sir, come in," feebly rasped the voice of the old man from the
door. "Josephte, bring a chair for Monsieur." "I will fetch one!" cried
the good-wife. The girl Josephte, rose from her seat and followed her
mother quickly into the house; the pale young man in the garden doubled
his cheerful smile; and only the bar-tender endued himself in an
aggressive grin of independence.

"I assure you, monsieur," pronounced Jean Benoit, with his full armory
of oratorical gestures, "that a friend of Monseigneur Chamilly will
always have our best. Ascend, sir.--Josephte, place Monsieur the chair."

Never was there a greater occasion of state.

Their guest raised his hat to the young lady and her mother, who threw
into her carriage all the dignity and suavity she could command. Then he
ascended and sat gratefully down, for he was fatigued.

The grandfather had laid his instrument on a spinning-wheel within the
door, and slowly lit a pipe with both hands. The bar-tender jumped from
his perch and stood with a familiar leer, of which when Benoit said "Mr.
Cuiller, monsieur," Chrysler took trifling notice. On the other hand the
pale lover remained modestly down the steps, and his cheerfulness
redoubled when Chrysler nodded to him, passingly introduced as "Le
Brun."

"Does the gentleman take white whiskey,[G] or well milk?" asked the old
man. "Josephte, bring some milk."

[Footnote G: Highwines.]

The daughter darted into the ho