"No, I did not. Who is the lady?"
"A naughty one, who sold liquor. She had no license, she could not pay her fine, therefore she must look through those iron bars," and Mrs. Rose à Charlitte shuddered.
Vesper looked interested, and presently she went on: "But Clothilde Dubois has some mercies,—one rocking-chair, her own feather bed, some dainties to eat, and many friends to visit and talk through the bars."
"Is there much drinking among the Acadiens on this Bay?" asked Vesper.
"They do not drink at all," she said, stoutly.
"Really,—then you never see a drunken man?"
"I never see a drunken man," rejoined his pretty hostess.
"Then I suppose there are no fights."
"There are no fights among Acadiens. They are good people. They go to mass and vespers on Sunday. They listen to their good priests. In the evening one amuses oneself, and on Monday we rise early to work. There are no dances, no fights."