e, zat leetle--non! _that lit_-tel stone." (Mother Marie could
often pronounce our English "th" quite well; it was only when she forgot
that she slipped back to the soft "z" which I liked much better.) "He
come to the shore! It is not as this shore, no! White is the sand, the
rocks black, black. All about are nets, very great, and boats. The men
are great and brown; and their beards--Holy Cric! their beards are a
bush for owls; and striped their shirt, jersey, what you call, and blue
trousers. Zey come in from sea, their sails are brown and red; the boats
are full wiz fish, that shine like silver; they are the herring, _petit
Jacques_, it is of those that we live a great deal. Down zen come ze
women to ze shore and zey--_they_--are dressed beautiful, ah! so
beautiful! A red petticoat,--sometimes a blue, but I love best the red,
striped wiz white, and over this the dress turned up, _a la
blanchisseuse_. A handkerchief round their neck, and gold earrings,--ah!
long ones, to touch their neck; and gold beads, most beautiful! and then
the cap! _P'tit Jacques_, thou hast not seen caps, because here they
have not the understanding. But! white, like snow in ze sun; the muslin
clear, you understand, and stiff that it cracks,--ah! of a beauty! and
standing out like wings here, and here--you do not listen! you make not
attention, bad children that you are! Go! I tell you no more!"

It was true, Melody, my dear, that Petie and I did not care so much
about the descriptions of dress as if we had been little girls; my
mother was never weary of telling about the caps and earrings; I think
she often longed for them, poor little Mother Marie! But now Petie and I
clung about her, and begged her to go on, and she never could keep her
vexation for two minutes.

"Tell how they go up the street!" said Petie.

"Play we went, too!" cried I. "Play the stone was a boat, Mere Marie."
(I said it as one word, Melody; it makes a pretty name, "Mere-Marie,"
when the pronunciation is good. To hear our people say "M'ree" or
"Marry," breaks the heart, as my mother used to say.)

She nodded, pleased enough to play,--for she was a child, as I have told
you, in many, many ways, though with a woman's heart and
understanding,--and clapped our hands softly together, as she held them
in hers.

"We, then, yes! we three, Mere-Marie, _p'tit Jacques_, and Petie, we go
up from the beach, up the street that goes tic tac, zic zac, here and
there, up the hill; very