om his
hand and force a bit of food within it. He devoured this greedily,
though he made no comment, and resumed his churning as soon as the
tid-bit was consumed. Through all, Angelique's face was beaming and
her lips fretting, till Margot laughed aloud.

"Oh! Angelique Ricord! Of all the odd people you are the oddest!"

"So? Well, then. How many odd people have you seen, my child that you
should be so fine a judge? So that evil-come departed to his own, he
did? May his shadow never darken this door again! 'Twas all along of
him the trouble came."

"No, Angelique, you forget. It must have been the broken glass! How
could it possibly have been anything else? Never mind, sweetheart;
when I come home from my long journey I will bring you a new one, big
and clear, and that has the power to make even plain folks look
lovely. If my uncle will let me. Dear, but I do wish you had a bit,
this minute, to see how silly you look with that big bonnet on!"

Angelique's hand flew to her head in comic dismay. She had carefully
removed and refolded the beautiful shawl, but had quite forgotten her
other adornment, which she now tore off in a haste that threatened
damage to the precious possession.

"Pierre, bid her be careful. That is your wife's bonnet!"

Even the housekeeper had to smile at this and listen patiently while
Margot made much of the incident. Indeed, she would have willingly
been laughed at indefinitely, if thus she could herself hear these
young voices gay with the old-time unconcern.

"And Adrian was good to the poor, wild things. Well, I have hopes of
Adrian. He didn't have the right sort of rearing to know how the
forest people feel, but he learned fast. I'm thankful, thankful,
Pierre Ricord, that you had to lose those fine antlers. If you'd sold
them and made a lot of money by it, you would have forgotten that the
moose could suffer and have killed many more. As it is, better one
should die than many. And Pierre, I'm going away myself. Now that
you've come home, I'm going at once. Old Joseph and I. Clear to that
far away New York where Adrian has gone, and to many other places,
too."

Pierre dropped the dasher with such force that the "half-brought"
butter, which Angelique was opening the churn to "scrape down
together," splashed out over the step, Margot's lap, and the ground.

Angelique was too indignant to speak, but Margot cried:

"Oh! Pierre! How careless and wasteful. We've none too much butter,
any