CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION OF NANCE
Columbine had been hauled to the side of the road and Rogue was allowed to nibble blue-grass at her pleasure. A fire had been kindled, and Jean François was broiling bacon speared on the end of a sharpened stick. A coffee-pot was steaming upon a few hot embers raked aside for that especial purpose. A great loaf of white bread lay on a cloth on the bottom of an upturned bucket. Nance, over behind the cart, was arranging her toilet. She had rummaged within the yellow depth of the van, filled with much pedlers' finery, and, among other necessities, discovered a small mirror. This she propped upon the hub against a spoke of the wheel. With its aid she readily set herself to rights.
Just as she appeared, fresh and resplendent as the morning itself, Jean François announced breakfast. He directed her to be seated on the bank of the turnpike, placed a clean board some two feet square upon her lap, and gave to her two slices of firm bread between which lay several strips of crisply cooked bacon. He then brought her a heavy china cup filled with delicious coffee. This, with sparkling cool water from a spring near the bridge, constituted his offering for the morning meal. After giving himself a like helping, they ate in silence. Once a farm wagon, in which three men rode, was driven by. As they passed, they stared very markedly. The pedler, usually so amiable, scowled furtively at them. Nance became uneasy, for Jean François had scarcely spoken to her since his torrent of French and English invectives which came so volubly upon his surprise at finding her unexpectedly. This was very unlike her old-time friend the umbrella man. She began to realize that it was a very delicate problem with which she had precipitately overwhelmed him. She wondered how he would solve it, yet was indifferent enough not to offer any assistance.
After the meal, with his usual deliberateness, he drew Pierrett from his pocket, filled her with an adorable mixture, and, with a brand from the fire, proceeded to light her. As the blue smoke curled above his head, he leaned upon his elbow, otherwise his body lay at full length upon the earth, and, at last, looked at the petulant and unhappy Nance.
"Son," said he, without any apparent consideration of the sex implied by the title and as if he were subtly indicating the relationship which he wished them to assume; "son, tell me all about it."
"I ran away," exclaimed Nance in her most bewitching manner.
She had decided upon her method of procedure. She would be seductive, helpless, and appeal to his sympathy and chivalry. A course which he readily perceived was going to make his sexless comradeship rather difficult.
"To be sure, sir," was the reply. And then as if a bit alarmed: