2 ([return])
[ The French Canadians often contract “bonne” and “bon” in this way. “Bo Tantibba” is contraction for “Bonne Tante Hibba.”]
“Eh, eh, how happened that?” said Hetty, hurrying on so swiftly towards the Square that even Pierre's brisk little legs could hardly keep up with her. Pierre's inventive faculty came to a halt.
“Nay, that I do not know,” he replied; “but the people are all gathered around her, and they all cry out for thee by thy name. There is none like thee, Tantibba, they say, if one has a wound.”
Hetty quickened her pace to a run. As she entered the Square, she saw such crowds around the basin that Pierre's tale seemed amply corroborated. Pressing in at the outer edge of the circle, she exclaimed, looking to right and left, “Where is the child? Where is Mère Michaud?” Every one looked bewildered; no one answered. Pierre, with an upward fling of his agile legs, disappeared to seek his carnation; and Hetty found herself, in an instant more, surrounded by a crowd of children, each in its finest clothes, and each bearing a small pot with a flowering-plant in it.
“For thee! For thee! The good saints bless the day thou wert born!” they all cried, pressing nearer, and lifting high their little pots. “See my carnation!” shouted Pierre, struggling nearer to Hetty. “And my jonquil!” “And my pansies!” “And this forget-me-not!” cried the children, growing more and more excited each moment; while the chorus, “For thee! For thee! The good saints bless the day thou wert born!” rose on all sides.
Hetty was bewildered.
“What does all this mean?” she said helplessly.
Then, catching Pierre by the shoulder so suddenly that his red carnation tottered and nearly fell, she exclaimed:
“You mischievous boy! Where is the child that was bitten? Have you told me a lie?”