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"Let me pass," she cried disdainfully, but not trying to push aside. "Tell me where you go!" "To Mère Gaudrion's to see that soft-headed Marie. I wish she had some ideas, but she is good and cheerful, and does as she is told." "You are not very complimentary to your friend."
And I could catch fish and I know the best places for berries, and the grapes will soon be ripening. And the plums. I can shoot birds with an arrow. But I belong to mam'selle." "If she will let you come now and then," wistfully. "Yes, I might," with an air of condescension. "Thou art a pretty little lady," was Mère Gaudrion's parting benison to the little girl, and Rose smiled. "Come again often."
She had not been so rapturously in love with miladi of late, but since the death of her husband, the rather noisy glee of the child had annoyed her. She would be better now. Of course they would keep the child, she had no other friends, nor home. Marie Gaudrion's marriage was quite a mystery to Rose.
Madame Gaudrion's mother had been a white woman left at the Saguenay basin in a dying condition, it was supposed, but she had recovered and married a half-breed. One daughter had cast in her lot with a roving tribe. Pierre Gaudrion had seen the other in one of the journeys up to Tadoussac and brought her home.
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