"Aw, shut up, now," said Claude, remonstratingly, to his wife.
Mrs. Watercrow was slightly abashed. "I don't go for to make yeh mad," she said, humbly.
"No, no, of course you did not," said the girl, in quick compunction, and she laid one of her slim white hands on Mirabelle Marie's fat brown ones. "I should not have spoken so hastily."
"Look at that,—she's as meek as a cat," said the woman, in surprise, while her husband softly caressed Bidiane's shoulder.
"The Englishman, as you call him, does not care much for women," Bidiane went on, gently. "Now that he has money he is much occupied, and he always has men coming to see him. He often went out with his mother, but rarely with me or with any ladies. He travels, too, and takes Narcisse with him; and now, tell me, do you like being down the Bay?"
Her aunt shrugged her shoulders. "A long sight more'n Boston."
"Why did you give up the farm?" said the girl to Claude; "the old farm that belonged to your grandfather."
"I be a fool, an' I don' know it teel long after," said Claude, slowly.
"And you speak French here,—the boys, have they learned it?"