“Mother Angelique, I do not relish jokes which are silly,” protested the girl. “You know how the girls of our country are taught! We cannot sit with hands in our laps without being very unhappy.”
She went out and sat upon the door-step where old Etienne made way for her.
“At first I did not think I would come out, Mr. Farr,” she said. “But I have made bold to come.”
“I do not think it needs boldness to come where I am,” he returned. “I hope you are not going to make a stranger of me because I have not been very neighborly of late. I have been busy and I have been away. The boys have paid my fare up-country, and so I ran about to carry the gospel of the free water. The truckmen have volunteered in half a dozen places. We are doing a great work.”
“And yet I am afraid,” she confessed. “You are fighting men who can do you much harm. I have been asking questions so as to know more about those men. For they have threatened poor Father Etienne. I wanted to know about them. I cannot help. But can you not help, Mr. Farr? I think you are much more than you seem to be,” she added, naively.
“They have threatened Etienne?” demanded Farr, a sharp note in his voice.
“Ah, m'sieu', I have said nottin's to you. I am only poor old man. No matter.”
“Why didn't you say something to me?”
“It's because you might feel bad, m'sieu'. P'raps not, for I'm only poor man and don't count.”
“What have they said to you?”