Delightful as everything was, Jeanne counted the days. She was up at the great house and read to its lovely mistress, sang and danced with baby Angelique, taking hold of the tiny hands and swinging round in graceful circles, playing games with the boys and doing feats, and trying to laugh off the lamentations, which sometimes came near to tears. "How strange," said Miladi the last evening, "that we have never heard your family name. Or--had you none?" "Oh, yes, Madame. Some one took good care of that. It was written on a paper pinned to me; and," laughing, "pricked into my skin so I could not deny it. It is Jeanne Angelot. But there are no Angelots in Detroit." Miladi grasped her arm so tightly that Jeanne's breath came with a flutter. "Are there none? Are you quite sure?" There was a strained sound in her voice wont to be so musical. "Oh, yes. Father Rameau searched." Miladi dropped her arm. "It grows chilly," she said, presently. "Shall we go in, or--" Somehow her voice seemed changed. "I had better run down to the dame's. Good night, Miladi. I have been so happy. It is like a lovely dream of the summer under the trees. I am sorry I cannot be content to stay;" and she kissed the soft hand, that now was cold. Miladi made no reply. Only she stood still longer in the cold, and murmured, "Jeanne Angelot, Jeanne Angelot." And then she recalled a laughing remark of Gaston's only that morning:-- "Jeanne has wintry blue eyes like my father's! Look, maman, the frost almost sparkles in them. And he says his came from the wonderful skies above the Arctic seas. Do you know where that is?" No, Jeanne did not know where that was. But there were plenty of blue-eyed people in Detroit. She ran down the steps in the light of the young crescent moon, and rubbed her arm a little where the fingers had almost made a dent. The next day the "Return" touched at the island. It was not at all out of her way, and the captain and Loudac were warm friends. The boys clung to Jeanne and would hardly let her go. "I wish my father could buy you for another sister," exclaimed Gaston hanging to her skirt. "If he were here he would not let you go, I am quite sure. It will take such a long while for Angelique to grow up, and then we shall be men." Did Miladi give her a rather formal farewell? It seemed as if something chilled Jeanne. Loudac and the dame were effusive enough to make amends. The "Return" was larger but not as jaunty as the "Flying Star," and it smelled strongly of salt fish. But Jeanne stepped joyously aboard--was she not going to La Belle Detroit? All her pulses thrilled with anticipation. Home! How sweet a word it was! CHAPTER XVII. A PAEAN OF GLADNESS. Jeanne's little cabin was very plain, but the window gave a nice lookout and could be opened at will. They would cross the lake and go down to Barre on the Canada side, and that would give a different view. Was the ocean so very much larger, she wondered in her inexperienced fashion.