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He's really not troublesome; but he's building a nest under the bureau, and if you don't know about him, it's rather unsettling to see a paper pattern from the sewing-room, or a piece of cloth, moving across the floor." Mr. Le Moyne thought it might be very interesting. "Although, if there's nest-building going on, isn't it er possible that Reginald is a lady ground-squirrel?"
At length M. Leon Faucher gave Antonin Moyne an order for a bust, upon which the statuary would be able to make 600 francs. But he was informed that, the State funds being low, the bust would not be paid for until it was finished. Distress came and hope went.
And since the paper mill hasn't been supplying our printer with the new kind of paper very long, it ought to be easy to trace where the new and clever counterfeit supply is coming from." "Well, I hope they can catch the scoundrels," said Mr. Moyne. "I certainly hate to see money lost." Mr. Moyne was an ideal treasurer.
In the evening we met Le Moyne and the little colonel at the small town of Meule, just over the border, and settled the usual preliminaries. The next day at 7 A.M. we met on an open grassy space within a wood. The lieutenant had the precious papers. We stepped aside. The word was given and the blades met. Merton surprised me. It is needless to enter into details.
The police there were not even many of them looked quite peaceable, as if they had no more terrific duties to perform than the regulation of traffic and the arrest of errant drunkards. I began to think that I had accidentally told Moyne the truth the night before. All our warriors seemed to be in bed, exhausted by their marching and counter-marching.
So in order to be perfectly safe, she deemed it best to deceive her mistress. "Tell your Master Hesden I wish to see him immediately, Maggie," said Mrs. Le Moyne, imperiously. "Yes'm," said the girl, as she left the room to perform her errand.
Cahoon's wife, if he had one, would not require a display of Lady Moyne's best clothes to seal her attachment to the Union. The speech was an uncommonly good one. A phrase in it frequently repeated, appealed to me very strongly. Lady Moyne spoke about "our men."
Will they tamely submit while Hesden Le Moyne rallies the colored men to his standard and hands over Horsford to the enemy? Will they stand idly and supinely, and witness the consummation of such an infamous conspiracy? No! a thousand times, No! Awake! stir up your clubs; let the shout go up; put on your red shirts and let the ride begin.
That single phrase made such a violent emotional appeal to me that I missed all the rest of the speech. Each time I began to recover a little from hearing it and was prepared to give my attention to something else, Lady Moyne used to repeat it, and then I was hypnotized again. I have no doubt, however, that the speech was a powerful appeal for the maintenance of the Union.
It was that bete noir of the playwright, an ensemble; K. Le Moyne and Sidney, Palmer Howe, Christine, Tillie, the younger Wilson, Joe, even young Rosenfeld, all within speaking distance, almost touching distance, gathered within and about the little house on a side street which K. at first grimly and now tenderly called "home."
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