llars; and
then--mais, there is the grand difference! They have save and save
twenty years to pay their debts and to buy a seigneury, like that baron
who live in the time of John the Baptist. Now it is to stand on a ladder
to speak to them. And when all's done, they marry Ma'm'selle Sophie to a
farrier, to that Magon Farcinelle--bah!"

"Magon was at the Laval College in Quebec; he has ten thousand dollars;
he is the best judge of horses in the province, and he's a Member
of Parliament to boot," said the miller, puffing. "He is a great man
almost."

"He's no better judge of horses than M'sieu' Nic Lavilette--eh, that's
a bully bad scamp, my Gatineau!" responded Baby. "He's the best in the
family. He is a grand sport; yes. It's he that fetched Ma'm'selle Sophie
to the hitching-post. Voila, he can wind them all round his finger!"

Baby looked round to see if any one was near; then he drew the miller's
head down by pulling at his collar, and whispered in his ear:

"He's hot foot for the Rebellion; that's one good thing," he said. "If
he wipes out the English--"

"Hold your tongue," nervously interrupted Gatineau, for just then two
or three loiterers of the parish came shambling around the corner of the
mill.

Baby stopped short, and as they greeted the newcomers their attention
was drawn to the stage-coach from St. Croix coming over the little hill
near by.

"Here's M'sieu' Nic now--and who's with him?" said Baby, stepping about
nervously in his excitement. "I knew there was something up. M'sieu'
Nic's been writing long letters from Montreal."

Baby's look suggested that he knew more than his position as postmaster
entitled him to know; but the furtive droop at the corner of his eyes
showed also that his secretiveness was equal to his cowardice.

On the seat, beside the driver of the coach, was Nicolas Lavilette,
black-haired, brown-eyed, athletic, reckless-looking, with a cast in
his left eye, which gave him a look of drollery, in keeping with his
buoyant, daring nature. Beside him was a figure much more noticeable and
unusual.

Lean, dark-featured, with keen-glancing eyes, and a body with a faculty
for finding corners of ease; waving hair, streaked with grey, black
moustache, and a hectic flush on the cheeks, lending to the world-wise
face a wistful look-that, with near six feet of height, was the picture
of his friend.

"Who is it?" asked the miller, with bulging eyes. "An English nobleman,"
answered Baby.