"'The Frenchman he hate to die in the fall,
When the marsh is full of game:
For the muskrat he is good and fat,
And the bullfrog just the same.
"'High le,
High low,
Now baby don't you cry,
For ole Antoine is right close by.'"
"Now you see, Beely, she's quit crying already. You ain't know Antoine can sing, eh?"
It was even as Antoine said; the baby had stopped crying, and Billy, astonished by the music of the Frenchman's voice, begged for another song, insisting that anything would please him.
"Oh, no, Beely," objected his friend. "I ain't going to sing no more to the baby, she's quiet now. I'm goin to tole you a story."
"Is it a bear story?"
"No, it's a cow story. My cow she's run away once, and I'm find it on Wheeler's farm." Thus began Antoine, accompanying his words with gestures far more laughable than the tale he told, and causing the children great amusement. Billy's round face became one broad grin as he listened.
"When I'm take my cow home," went on the little Frenchman, still walking the floor with the baby in his arms, "I'm take short cut on the wood; I'm go by old log road. There was a lot of raspberry there, so now I'm to pick up some raspberry for myself. So I'm tie my cow on black stick of wood, and let it eat grass on the road and drag the wood along, and she can't get away from me."
At this point Betty's mother rescued the baby from the arms of the prancing Frenchman, to the evident relief of Betty, who thought the baby too precious a bundle to be flourished so vigorously, as Antoine stooped to pick raspberries and to tie his cow.