"What are they going to do?" asked Rosalie, and withdrew her trembling hand from that of Madame Dugal.
"This very day, at my office, they will bring their offerings, and we will begin at once," answered M. Dauphin. "There is no man in Chaudiere but will take the stocking from the hole, the bag from the chest, the credit from the bank, the grain from the barn for the market, or make the note of hand to contribute one-fortieth of all he is worth for the rebuilding of the church."
"Notes of hand are not money," said the Cure's sister, the practical sense ever uppermost.
"They shall all be money—hard cash," said the Notary. "The Seigneur is going to open a sort of bank, and take up the notes of hand, and give bank-bills in return. To-day I go with his steward to Quebec to get the money."
"What does the Abbe Rossignol say?" said the Cure's sister.
"Our church and parish are our own," interposed the Cure proudly. "We do our duty and fear no abbe."
"Voila!" said M. Dauphin, "he never can keep hands off. I saw him go to Jo Portugais a little while ago. 'Remember!' he said—I can't make out what he was after. We have enough to remember to-day, for sure."
"Good may come of it, perhaps," said M. Loisel, looking sadly out upon the ruins of his church.
"See, 'tis the sunrise!" said Mrs. Flynn's voice from the corner, her face towards the eastern window.