"Don't." Gaston put out his arm to bar her. "We promised never to go outside without permission. Only a coward or a thief tells lies and breaks his word. If we could find Loudac."
Loudac had gone over to Manitou. The dame had been baking some brown bread with spice seeds in it, and she gave them all a great slice. How good it tasted! Then they were off again, and when they reached the house their mother had gone in, for the porch was hot from the sun.
Jeanne had never seen anything like it. The walls seemed set with wonderful stones and gems, some ground to facets. Long strips of embroidery in brilliant colors and curious designs parted them like frames. Here a border of wampum shells, white, pale grayish, pink and purple; there great flowers made of shells gathered from the shores of lakes and rivers. At the far end of the room were two Indian girls working on bead embroidery, another sewing rows of beautiful feathers in a border.
The boys were eager to rehearse their good time.
"If they have not tired you to death," said their mother.
Jeanne protested that she had enjoyed it quite as much.
"It is a luxury to have a new playfellow now that their father is away. They are so fond of him. Sometimes we all go."
"When will he return, Madame?"
"In a fortnight or so. Then he takes the long winter journey. That is a more dreary time, but we shut ourselves up and have blazing fires and work and read, and the time passes. There is the great hope at the end," and she gave an exquisite smile.
"But—Miladi—how can I get back to Detroit?"