Even the housekeeper had to smile at this and listen patiently while Margot made much of the incident. Indeed, she would have willingly been laughed at indefinitely, if thus she could herself hear these young voices gay with the old-time unconcern.
“And Adrian was good to the poor, wild things. Well, I have hopes of Adrian. He didn’t have the right sort of rearing to know how the forest people feel, but he learned fast. I’m thankful, thankful, Pierre Ricord, that you had to lose those fine antlers. If you’d sold them and made a lot of money by it, you would have forgotten that the moose could suffer and have killed many more. As it is, better one should die than many. And Pierre, I’m going away myself. Now that you’ve come home, I’m going at once. Old Joseph and I. Clear to that far away New York where Adrian has gone, and to many other places, too.”
Pierre dropped the dasher with such force that the “half-brought” butter, which Angelique was opening the churn to “scrape down together,” splashed out over the step, Margot’s lap, and the ground.
Angelique was too indignant to speak, but Margot cried:
“Oh! Pierre! How careless and wasteful. We’ve none too much butter, anyway.”
The lad still stared, open-mouthed. After a minute he asked:
“What’s that you said? About that New York?”
“I’m going to New York. I’m going in my uncle’s place, to attend to my uncle’s business. Old Joe is to go with me to take care of me—or I of him—and you are to stay here with the master and your mother. You may bring King Madoc over if you wish; and, by the way, how did you get here, if you have lost your own canoe?”
“Helped myself to one of Joe’s. Helped myself to a breakfast, too. Joe’s stocked up for winter, already. But, I say, Margot. He’s no use in a big city. Better take me. I was goin’ anyway, only after that—well, that grave, I made up my mind I’d just step back here a spell and take a fresh start. I’m ready, any minute, and Joe hates it. Hey?”