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"But who will have de boat when you are gone, Honoré?" "Jules. And he bring Melinda to de house." "She not come. She not leave her own house. She take her 'usban' in." "Then Jules must rent de house. You not detest poor Jules?" "I not detest him like de hudder one." "Au 'voir, Clethera." "Au 'voir, Honoré."
Shorry to be in thish disgrashful state ... thish sad occas'n, gemmem. Very shorry! I thank you!" He turned to leave them, staggering towards the door. "I ain't been a good 'usban' to 'er," he went on, again making the jerking gesture over his shoulder with his thumb. "Thash a fac'. I ain't. But I 'pologise. I'm shorry! Can't say no more'n that, can I? Goo'-ni', gemmem!"
"Jules McCarty have disgrace' his son!" "Melinda Crée," retorted Honoré, obliged to defend his own, "she take a little 'usban' honly nineteen." "She 'ave no chance like Jules; she is oblige' to wait and take what invite her." The voices of children from other quarter-breed cottages, playing along the beach, added cheer to the sweet darkness.
"I'm shorry," he said, "to be thish con ... condish'n, gemmem, but y'see it's like this. A gemman said to me, y'see, 'Bert, 'e says ... thash my name ... Bert, called after Queen's 'usban' ... Gaw' bless 'er!... Alber' the Goo' they called 'im ... not me, oh, Lor' no!... thish gemmam, 'e says to me, 'Bert, 'e says, 'come an' 'ave one! an' so o' course I 'ad to 'ave one. Thash 'ow 'twas, see!
"Well, ce't'nly 'e did! Di'n' 'e gave dat money to Aurora De Grapion? one 'undred five t'ousan' dolla'? Jis' as if to say, 'Yeh's de money my h-uncle stole from you' 'usban'. Hah! w'en I will swear on a stack of Bible' as 'igh as yo' head, dat Agricole win dat 'abitation fair! If I see it? No, sir; I don't 'ave to see it! I'll swear to it! Hah!"
"M'sieu' Brownee, you may call me de cursed patois. I not know anyt'ings. But when André La France take me away, oh, I t'ink I die! Let me honly be Françoise to do your mend'! I be 'appier to honly look at you dan some womans who 'ave 'usban'!" "Françoise, kiss me kiss me!" His voice broke with a sob. "If you loved me you would have me!" "M'sieu' Brownee, I ado' you!"
This question was addressed by me to the sly man, and he was embarrassed. "Livin'! 'Taint no livin'. It's lingerin'. Leastways it would be if it wasn't for my gell, Tilley, there. 'Er and 'er 'usban' gives us a 'and; an' if you've got a bit about you you might 'elp us put our copper to rights. Got a thick 'un? I'll pay it back, s'elp me Gord, if the missus can start laundryin' agin'."
The casual, like most of the lower order of laborers, has small opinion of women as a class, and meets any remonstrance from them as to his habits with an unvarying formula. "I'm yer 'usban', ain't I?" is the reply to request or objection alike, and "husband" by the casual is defined as "a man with a right to knock his woman down when he likes."
Missus Mary Swan thats what she calls herself but her richeous name his Mollett and why not seein who is er usban. So no more at presence but will come foward hany day to pruv hall this agin my guvnor becase he arnt doing the thing as is rite and I looks to you Mr.
Dis a fine coontree, Canada, for peoples get strong an' hoongree an' work 'ard an' sleep good." "It's a perfectly beautiful and wonderful country," cried the girl, enthusiastically. "I I wish I could always live here." "You one so prettee gal," commented the good woman. "Some day you fin' one good 'usban' an' marry an' h'always lif in dis coontree. Den you is happy and strong.
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