“pierre! and angelique is boxing his ears! my, what a whack, that i can hear it way in here! i must to the rescue, but his coming makes right for me to go. angelique, angelique, don’t! heigho, pierre! i’m glad you’re back!”

but if he heard this welcome he did not heed it, and margot stood amazed at the ridiculous scene upon which she had entered.

there was angelique, still arrayed in her own flower-bedecked bonnet and her mistress’ india shawl, being whirled about the big kitchen in a crazy sort of waltz which seemed to suit the son’s excited mood. her bonnet sat rakishly on one side and the rich shawl dragged over the floor, which, fortunately, [pg 242]was too clean to harm it; but amidst her enforced exercises, the mother continued to aim those resounding blows at her son’s great ears. sometimes they hit the mark, but at others fell harmlessly upon his broad shoulders. in any case, they seemed not to disturb him but rather to add to the homelikeness of his return.

at length, however, he released his irate parent and held out his hand to margot.

“done the old lady heap of good. how’s things? how’s the menagerie? and the master?”

“hey? where’s the manners i’ve always taught you? askin’ for the master last when ’tis he is always first. yes. yes, indeed. but, pierre, ’twas nigh no master at all you came home to. he’s been at death’s door for weeks. even yet——”

then angelique turned and saw margot, whose presence she had not before observed. but she rallied instantly, turning her sentence into a brisk command:

[pg 243]

“even yet, the churnin’ not done and it goin’ on to measure nine o’clock. get to the dasher, lad, and tie this big apron round your neck. then change that dirty shirt. that a child of mine should wear such filthy things. pouf! you were always the torment; that is so.”

“just the same, angelique, dear, your eyes are shining like stars, and you are happier than you have been a single minute since that bad boy of yours paddled away in the night. if he’s to churn i’m to sit beside him and hear all his long story first. come on, pierre! oh! how good it is to have you back!”

it was, also, most delightful to the mother, even though her happiness expressed itself in a peculiar way, by grumbling and scolding as she had not done once since real trouble fell upon that home, with the illness of its master.

the churn stood outside the kitchen door, for angelique would allow no chance of spilled cream on her scoured boards; so margot [pg 244]settled herself on the door-step and listened while the wanderer gave her a long and detailed account of his journey. meanwhile, and at every few minutes, his mother would step to his side, take the dasher from his hand and force a bit of food within it. he devoured this greedily, though he made no comment, and resumed his churning as soon as the tid-bit was consumed. through all, angelique’s face was beaming and her lips fretting, till margot laughed aloud.

“oh! angelique ricord! of all the odd people you are the oddest!”

“so? well, then. how many odd people have you seen, my child that you should be so fine a judge? so that evil-come departed to his own, he did? may his shadow never darken this door again! ’twas all along of him the trouble came.”

“no, angelique, you forget. it must have been the broken glass! how could it possibly have been anything else? never mind, sweetheart; when i come home from my long journey [pg 245]i will bring you a new one, big and clear, and that has the power to make even plain folks look lovely. if my uncle will let me. dear, but i do wish you had a bit, this minute, to see how silly you look with that big bonnet on!”

angelique’s hand flew to her head in comic dismay. she had carefully removed and refolded the beautiful shawl, but had quite forgotten her other adornment, which she now tore off in a haste that threatened damage to the precious possession.

“pierre, bid her be careful. that is your wife’s bonnet!”

even the housekeeper had to smile at this and listen patiently while margot made much of the incident. indeed, she would have willingly been laughed at indefinitely, if thus she could herself hear these young voices gay with the old-time unconcern.

“and adrian was good to the poor, wild things. well, i have hopes of adrian. he didn’t have the right sort of rearing to know [pg 246]how the forest people feel, but he learned fast. i’m thankful, thankful, pierre ricord, that you had to lose those fine antlers. if you’d sold them and made a lot of money by it, you would have forgotten that the moose could suffer and have killed many more. as it is, better one should die than many. and pierre, i’m going away myself. now that you’ve come home, i’m going at once. old joseph and i. clear to that far away new york where adrian has gone, and to many other places, too.”

pierre dropped the dasher with such force that the “half-brought” butter, which angelique was opening the churn to “scrape down together,” splashed out over the step, margot’s lap, and the ground.

angelique was too indignant to speak, but margot cried:

“oh! pierre! how careless and wasteful. we’ve none too much butter, anyway.”

the lad still stared, open-mouthed. after a minute he asked:

[pg 247]

“what’s that you said? about that new york?”

“i’m going to new york. i’m going in my uncle’s place, to attend to my uncle’s business. old joe is to go with me to take care of me—or i of him—and you are to stay here with the master and your mother. you may bring king madoc over if you wish; and, by the way, how did you get here, if you have lost your own canoe?”

“helped myself to one of joe’s. helped myself to a breakfast, too. joe’s stocked up for winter, already. but, i say, margot. he’s no use in a big city. better take me. i was goin’ anyway, only after that—well, that grave, i made up my mind i’d just step back here a spell and take a fresh start. i’m ready, any minute, and joe hates it. hey?”

“i wouldn’t trust myself with you a dozen miles. you’re too foolish and fickle. joe is steady and faithful. it’s settled. i think, angelique, that we can start to-morrow. don’t you?”

[pg 248]

angelique sighed. all her happiness was once more overclouded. why couldn’t well enough be let alone? however, she answered nothing. she had sometimes ventured to grumble even at the master but she had never questioned his decisions. if it was by his will that her inexperienced darling was to face the dangers of an unknown world, with nobody but a glum old indian to serve her, of course, there was nothing for it but submission.

at daybreak the next morning, margot stood beside her uncle’s bed, clasping his thin hands in parting. his eyes were sad and anxious, but hers were bright and full of confidence. he had given his last advice; she had ample money for all possible needs, with directions upon whom to call for more, should anything arise for which they had not prepared, and she had, also, her route marked out on paper, with innumerable suggestions about this or that stop; and now, there was nothing more to do or say but add his blessing and farewell.

“good-bye, margot. into god’s hands i give you.”

“the same hands, uncle, which have cared for me always. i shall come back and bring our loved one with me. get well fast, to make him happy when he comes.”

a hasty kiss to angelique who was sobbing herself ill, a clasp of pierre’s hand, and she was gone. joe’s birch was pulling steadily away from the island of peace into that outside world of strife and contention, of which the young voyager was so wholly ignorant.

her eyes were wet and her heart ached, with that same sort of physical distress which had assailed her when adrian went away, but now much sharper. yet her lips still smiled and joseph, furtively regarding her, was satisfied. she would give him no trouble.

a few miles’ journey and she had entered what seemed like fairyland. she had then no time for looking back or remembering. the towns were wonderful, and the first time that she saw a young girl of her own age she [pg 250]stared until the stranger made a grimace toward her. this perplexed and annoyed her, but taught her a lesson: she stared no more.

yet she saw everything; and in that little book her uncle had provided for this object made notes of her impressions, to be discussed with him upon her return. her first ride behind horses made her laugh aloud. they were so beautiful and graceful and their strength so appealed to her animal-loving heart. the ricketty buck-board, which was their first vehicle, seemed luxurious, though after a few miles’ jogging over a corduroy-road she confided to joseph that she preferred a canoe.

“umm. no shakeum up.”

a stage drawn by four steeds, rather the worse for wear, yet with the accompaniment of fellow-travelers and a musical horn, brought memories of cinderella and other childish heroines, and made the old tales real; but when they reached the railway and stepped [pg 251]into a car her interest grew painfully intense. when the conductor paused to take their tickets, obligingly procured for this odd pair by the stage-driver, margot immediately requested to be put upon the engine.

“the engine! well, upon my word!”

“yes, i’ve never seen one, except the one in front of this car-train. i know how they operate but i would so dearly like to see them working close at hand. can’t i?”

the brass-buttoned official made no reply, save to purse his lips and utter another low whistle; but he gave margot and joe a critical survey and reflected that of all the passengers he had ever carried these were the most unique. there was something in the girl’s intelligent face that was hard to deny, and for all his silence, perhaps because of it, a certain dignity about the indian that won favor even for him.

it was a way-train on a branch road; one of the connecting links between the wilderness and the land of the “through express” [pg 252]else it might not have happened that, after so long a time had elapsed that margot felt her request was indeed refused, the conductor returned and whispered in her ear. it was a concession, not to be made general; but she was informed:

“i’ve spoken to the engineer and he says he doesn’t mind. not if you’ll ask no questions and won’t bother.”

“i’ll not. and i thank you very much.”

“hmm. she may be a backwoods girl but she can give a lesson in manners to many a city miss,” thought the obliging guide, as he led margot forward through the few cars toward the front; and, at the next stop, helped her to the ground and up again into the little shut-in space beside the grimy driver of this wonderful iron horse.

margot never forgot that ride; nor the man at the lever his unknown passenger. she had left her obnoxious bonnet upon the seat beside old joseph and her hair had broken from its unaccustomed braid to its habitual [pg 253]freedom, so that it enveloped her and streamed behind her like a cloud. her trim short skirt, her heelless shoes, her absence of “flummery” aroused the engineer’s admiration and he volunteered, what he had previously declined to give, all possible information concerning his beloved locomotive. he even allowed her, for one brief moment to put her own hand on the lever and feel the thrill of that resistless plunging forward into space.

it was only when they stopped again and she knew she ought to go back to joe that she ventured to speak.

“i never enjoyed anything so much in my life, nor learned so much in so short a time. i wish—i wish—have you a sister, or a little girl? or anybody you love very much?”

“why, yes. i’ve got the nicest little girl in the united states. she’s three years old and as cute as they make ’em.”

“you’ve given me pleasure, i’d like to give her as much. may she have this from me, to get—whatever a town child would like?”

[pg 254]

“sure, miss, it’s too much; but——”

margot was gone, and on the engineer’s palm shone a bright gold coin. all mr. dutton’s money was in specie and he had given margot a liberal amount of “spending money” for her trip. money being a thing she knew as little about as she did traveling he had determined to let her learn its value by experience; yet even he might have been a trifle shocked by the liberality of this, her first “tip.” however, she saw only the gratitude that leaped into the trainman’s eyes and was glad that she had had the piece handy in her pocket.

yet, delightful as the novelty of their long journey was, margot found it wearisome; and the nearer she reached its end the more a new and uncomfortable anxiety beset her. joseph said nothing. he had never complained nor admired, and as far as sociability was concerned he might have been one of those other, wooden indians which began to appear on the streets of the towns, before shops where tobacco was [pg 255]sold. she looked at joe, sometimes, wondering if he saw these effigies of his race and what were his opinions on the matter. but his face remained stolid and she decided that he was indifferent to all such slight affairs.

it was when they first stepped out of their train into the great station at new york, that the full realization of her undertaking came to her. even joseph’s face now showed some emotion, of dismay and bewilderment, and her own courage died in that babel of noises and the crowding rush of people, everywhere.

“why, what has happened? surely, there must have been some fearful accident, or they would not all hurry so.”

then she saw among the crowd, men in a uniform she recognized, from the description her uncle had once given her, and remembered that he had then told her if ever she were in a strange place and needed help it was to such officers she should apply. when this advice had been given, a year before, neither [pg 256]had imagined it would so soon be useful. but it was with infinite relief that she now clutched joseph’s hand and impelled him to go with her. gaining the side of an officer, she caught his arm and demanded:

“what is the matter? where are all the people hurrying to?”

“why—nowhere, in special. why?”

the policeman had, also, been hastening forward as if his life depended upon his reaching a certain spot at a certain time, but now he slackened his speed and walked quietly along beside this odd girl, at the same moment keeping his eye upon a distant group of gamins bent on mischief. it had been toward them he had made such speed, but a brother officer appearing near them he turned his attention upon margot and her escort.

“oh! i thought there was something wrong. is it always such a racketty place? this new york?”

“always. why, ’tis quiet here to-day, compared to some.”

[pg 257]

“are you an officer of the law? is it your business to take care of strangers?”

“why, yes. i suppose so.”

“can i trust you? somebody must direct me. i was to take a cab and go—to this address. but i don’t know what a cab is from any other sort of wagon. will you help me?”

“certainly. give me the card.”

margot handed him the paper with the address of the old friend with whom her uncle wished her to stop while she was in the city; but the moment the policeman looked at it his face fell.

“why, there isn’t any such place, now. all them houses has been torn down to put up a sky-scraper. they were torn down six months ago.”

“why, how can that be? this lady has lived in that house all her life, my uncle said. she is a widow, very gentle and refined: she was quite poor; though once she had plenty of money. she took boarders, to keep a roof over her head; and it isn’t at all likely [pg 258]that she would tear it down and so destroy her only income. you must be mistaken. won’t you ask somebody else, who knows more about the city, please?”

the officer bridled, and puffed out his mighty chest. was not he “one of the finest”? as the picked policemen are termed. if he didn’t know the streets of the metropolis, who did?

margot saw that she had made a serious mistake. her head turned giddy, the crowd seemed to surge and close about her, and with a sense of utter failure and homesickness she fainted away.