g lost!
Farewell, chil'run!" He opened his arms toward them and with one dash
all the lesser ones filled them. They wept. Tears welled from
Bonaventure's eyes; and the mothers of Grande Pointe dropped again
into their seats and silently added theirs.

The next moment all eyes were on Maximian. His strong figure was
mounted on a chair, and he was making a gentle, commanding gesture
with one hand as he called:

"Seet down! Seet down, all han'!" And all sank down, Bonaventure in a
mass of weeping and clinging children. 'Mian too resumed his seat, at
the same time waving to the stranger to speak.

"My friends," said the visitor, rising with alacrity, "I say when a
man makes a bargain, he ought to stick to it!" He paused for them--as
many as could--to take in the meaning of his English speech, and, it
may be, expecting some demonstration of approval; but dead silence
reigned, all eyes on him save Bonaventure's and Sidonie's. He began
again:

"A bargain's a bargain!" And Chat-oue nodded approvingly and began to
say audibly, "Yass;" but 'Mian thundered out:

"_Taise toi_, Chat-oue! Shot op!" And the silence was again complete,
while the stranger resumed.

"There was a plain bargain made." He moved a step forward and laid the
matter off on the palm of his hand. "There was to be an examination;
the school was not to know; but if one scholar should make one mistake
the schoolhouse was to be closed and the schoolmaster sent away. Well,
there's been a mistake made, and I say a bargain's a bargain." Dead
silence still. The speaker looked at 'Mian. "Do you think they
understand me?"

"Dey meck out," said 'Mian, and shut his firm jaws.

"My friends," said the stranger once more, "some people think
education's a big thing, and some think it ain't. Well, sometimes it
is and sometimes it ain't. Now, here's this man"--he pointed down to
where Bonaventure's dishevelled crown was drooping to his
knees--"claims to have taught over thirty of your children to read.
Well, what of it? A man can know how to read, and be just as no
account as he was before. He brags that he's taught them to talk
English. Well, what does that prove? A man _might_ speak English and
starve to death. He claims, I am told, to have taught some of them to
write. But I know a man in the penitentiary that can write; he wrote
too much."

Bonaventure had lifted his head and was sitting with his eyes upon the
speaker in close attention. At this last word he said: