Mère Lunde understood.
“There’s no use running in and out like the mill stream, for it’s the flour that is getting ground,” she said sententiously. “Wait a bit.”
He had large patience with most events of life, but here was breathless with suspense. If she had been drooping for days, but she was so merry last night.
Rosalie came to the door. The children were going to Chouteau pond to skate and slide. Would not Renée join them?
“Alas! Renée was very ill.”
“But she must get better by to-morrow,” nodding hopefully and laughing.
After that Grandpère Freneau came up, which startled Gaspard, for he had never deigned to visit his grandchild. He was sober and comparatively well dressed, and had a little gift for her, a curious inlaid box, with a trinket a girl might like. She would be well again in a few days. Children were tough and sturdy, it was the old people who had to think about ills. As for him, he was strong enough yet.
Then he made a clumsy sort of bow and retreated.
“I hope it will bring no bad luck,” exclaimed Mère Lunde. “But he has not a good name. I should throw the gift into the fire!”
“I dare say it is of no great value.” He shook the box. “Some bits of silver with which he salves his conscience.”