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At last the guests had nearly all arrived, and farmer Charest, his good-natured face all aglow, intimated by much hammering on the table that it was time they sat down to supper. There being no dissenting voice to this popular proposition, a general move was made to the benches ranged on both sides of the table.
My son Zotique he now spick." Had farmer Charest been a second "Mark Antony," the recognition of his oratorical ability could not have been more marked. Certain it is that that renowned orator could not have borne more becomingly the honors showered upon him. Very handsome Zotique looked as he rose, and he spoke in English which fully justified the goodly remarks passed upon it by his father.
"Do you know, Madame Charest," she said laughingly, as she advanced, "the reason I am late is because well, because" the color rushed into her face as she hesitated for a few moments "because it took me so long to dress. There, now, I have told you! Father said he would tell you all when he came just what did keep me, although I coaxed him not to.
"You are as absent-minded as ever, Vital," he said jestingly, as he seized him by the arm and marched him into the room. The guests were seated, but there was still room for four or five more. After jeering them both for being moon-gazers, farmer Charest called Zotique to come and sit by his side.
Besides the farmer, another person had witnessed the adventures of Vital's plate! After considerable solicitation and stimulating applause, farmer Charest rose to deliver the first speech. "As dare are," he began in broken English, "a few farmer here who not spick de French lanwige, I will try for spick a few words in Anglish.
Onesime Charest, farmer, of L'Orignal, was a happy man. As he drove through the quaint little French-Canadian village, on his way to the railway station, he was saluted by the villagers with much ceremony. Everyone knew perfectly well just what it was that was taking farmer Charest to the station this beautiful hazy afternoon.
It also paid flattering attention to Madame Charest, and so beautified her thin face and silvered her grey hair, as she stood in the door and welcomed the arrivals, as to make the neighbors affirm and that in a manner that it would have been utterly useless to try and gainsay that she looked far younger than she did ten years ago! The lion of the hour, of course, was the wanderer Zotique.
A peaceful smile stole over the speaker's worried face, and absently taking up his fork he began to drum contentedly on the table with it, utterly forgetful of those who were waiting anxiously for the remainder of his remarks. With a broad smile, farmer Charest began to applaud loudly, receiving generous aid from the guests.
Before the dancing began, farmer Charest declared, despite the increasing and obvious restlessness of Magloire Meloche to get at the fiddle, that they must have a speech, in English, from his eldest son Vital. "And my son Vital, he has mak me a good son, if he do like to tink alone too much, and sometime do forgetful ting."
The wanderer's return was to be made more momentous by Madame Charest inviting a large number of guests to a party, to be given by her the evening he returned.
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