"Fool!" he cried. "I tell you all w'at to do. Many times I tell you not let a man see you want him. But you go ask him marry you before all the people! What you come to me for now?"
Bela hung her head in silence.
"You got white woman's sickness!" cried the old man with quaint scorn. "Tcha! Love!"
"Well, I am 'mos' white," muttered Bela sullenly. "Why you not tell me 'bout this sickness? Then I look out."
"There is no cure for a fool," growled Musq'oosis.
Bela finally raised her head.
"I am cure of my sickness now," she said, scowling. "I hate him!"
"Hate!" said the old man scornfully. "Your face is wet."
She dashed the tears from her cheeks. "When he ran out of Johnny Gagnon's," she went on, "I run after. I hold on him. He curse me. He throw me down. Since then I hate him. I lak make him hurt lak me. I want see him hurt bad!"
The old man looked incredulous. Questioning her sharply, he drew out the incident of the dead goose. He laughed scornfully.