Ten cents! he had expected but five! What a harvest!
Striking his pike-pole into the clump of deals,—"fifty at least," said joyful Baptiste,—he soon secured them to his boat, and then pulled, pulled, pulled, till the blood rushed to his head, and his arms ached, before he landed his wealth.
"Father!" cried he, bursting breathlessly into the sleeping household. "Come quick! I can't get it up without you."
"Big sturgeon?" cried the shantyman, jumping into his trousers.
"Oh, but we shall have a good fish breakfast!" cried Delima.
"Did I not say the blessed le bon Dieu would send plenty fish?" observed Memere.
"Not a fish!" cried little Baptiste, with recovered breath. "But look! look!" and he flung open the door. The eddy was now white with planks.
"Ten cents for each!" cried the boy. "The foreman told me."
"Ten cents!" shouted his father. "Baptême! it's my winter's wages!"
And the old grandmother! And Delima? Why, they just put their arms round each other and cried for joy.