“I am going out there myself. Good-night, monsieur.”
Louis Blanc picked up his hat and opened the door. He stood there for a couple of seconds as though he were about to say something, but he said nothing, and when he closed the door he did it very quietly. Manon heard him walk away.
“A nice neighbour to have,” she said to herself. “I wonder if Paul can fight?”
XVIII
Horses were scarce in Ste. Claire, and Manon found that Etienne Castener could not hire himself and his brown nag to her more than once a week, so she made a bundle of the things Brent needed and prepared to walk to Beaucourt. It was rather a wonderful bundle, an omnium gatherum of tobacco, matches, nails, six fresh eggs, some brussels sprouts, half a loaf of bread, six slices of fresh meat, a few oranges, three candles, a new shirt, a pair of blue trousers and the dictionary. Marie watched the making of the bundle, and withheld her criticism until the end.
“You are not going to carry that to Beaucourt?”
“Yes, but I am. There is a saw, too, that will have to travel under my arm.”
Marie felt the weight of the bundle.
“Oh, la-la, it is too heavy!”
“I am stronger than you think. See, I push a stick through the cord, put a pad between the stick and my shoulder, and there you are!”