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There is nothing special about them to denote that she was the child of a rich person." That was very true, St. Armand saw, except that the little stockings were fine and bore the mark of imported goods. He mused over them. The priest opened a small, oblong box that still had the scent of snuff about it. On it was the name of Bellestre. So that was no clew.
"It will not do for her to run wild much longer," she said with an air of authority. "She is growing so fast. Is there no one? Had not Father Rameau better write to M. Bellestre and see what his wishes are? And there is the Recollet house, though girls do not get much training for wives.
And thou wilt be a big girl and know many things, and he will be proud of thee. And M. Bellestre may come." Jeanne's sobs grew less. She had been thrust so suddenly into a new world of tender emotion that she was frightened. She did not want to go out again, and sat watching Pani as she made some delicious broth out of fresh green corn, that was always a great treat to the child.
Touchas, the woman she was staying with, corroborates the story. The child was two years or more old, and talked French; cried at first for her 'maman. Madame Bellestre insisted that Pani should bring the child to her. She had lost a little one by death about the same age. She supposed at first that some one would claim it, but no one ever did.
"Yes, a dream!" Jeanne's arms were about her neck. "And you will never go away, not even if M. Bellestre sends for you!" she entreated. "I shall never go away from La Belle Detroit. Oh, Pani, there may be beautiful places in the world," and she thought of the island and Miladi, "but none so dear. No, we shall stay here always."
He might have heard it before, he did not remember. There were several Indian waifs in school. "And this child was baptized, you say? Why did you not bring her to church?" he asked sharply. "Good Père, I did at first. But M. Bellestre would not have her forced. And then she only came sometimes. She liked the new school because they taught about countries and many things.
Madame Bellestre would have you baptized in the old church to make sure, and because you were French she bade me bring you there and care for you. But she had to die and M. Bellestre had large interests in that wonderful Southern town, New Orleans, where it is said oranges and figs and strange things grow all the year round.
"You interest me greatly. But would it not be wiser for her to have a better home and different training? Does M. Bellestre consent to have her grow up in ignorance?" "I have proposed she and Pani should come to the Recollet house. We have classes, you know, and there are orphan children. Several times we have coaxed her in, but it was disastrous. She set our classes in an uproar.
And," laughingly, "I think they are all afraid of M. Bellestre. Do you suppose he will take me home with him when he comes? I do not want to leave Detroit." Pani sighed. She liked the old town as well. Jeanne flew to the woods when school was over. She did envy the Indian girls their freedom for they were not trained in useful arts as were the French girls.
And one day, under a great oak outside the palisade, some one, an Indian squaw, dropped me in her lap. Pani could not understand her language, but she said in French, 'Maman dead, dead. And when M. Bellestre went away, far, far to the south on the great river, he had the little cottage fixed for Pani and me, and there we live."
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