'The whole affair of the bee was not so formidable as you thought,' said Robert to his sister subsequently. They were together in a canoe upon the pond, enjoying a tranquil afternoon, and ostensibly fishing.
'Oh no, not so bad. You know I saw very little of your hive, except indeed the storekeeper's son, who was dressed so fantastically, and who would come offering his help in my cookery.'
'I saw you talking to Jackey Dubois. Could you make anything of his French?'
'Well, I tried, and of course could understand him; but the accent is very queer. He calls Canada always Conodo; in fact, he puts "o" for "a" and "i" constantly. The article "la" turns into "lo," "voir" becomes "voar." That puzzles one—and the nasal twang besides. I wonder why that is so universal. Even your nice friend Mr. Holt is affected by it, though slightly.'
'He told me once that it is a national peculiarity; and no matter what pains a man takes to preserve himself or his children from it, insensibly it grows in the pronunciation. He believes that something in the climate affects the nasal organs; he predicts it for me, and I suppose for all of us.'
'I hope not. Robert, I think the foliage on the shores is changing colour already.'
'I daresay; the maple blushes scarlet very early. Ah, wait till you see the Indian summer, with its gorgeous tinting and soft pink mists.'
And here Robert jerked into the boat a fine speckled trout caught by the bait of a garden worm. He had captured half-a-dozen in half-an-hour.
'One would think the mists were come already,' said Linda, still gazing at the waved outline of the shore. 'There seems to be fog away yonder.'
'The captain burning his fallow, I presume,' said Robert, raising his eyes from his hook. But the smoke was larger than that would account for.