"O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a canoe? Let us go out on the water. I'm tired of the heat and dust." They threaded their way up to Merchants' wharf, for at King's wharf the crowd was great. At the dock yard, where, under the English, some fine vessels had been built, a few were flying pennons of red and white, and some British ships that had not yet left flaunted their own colors. As for the river, that was simply alive with boats of every description; Indian rowers and canoers, with loads of happy people singing, shouting, laughing, or lovers, with heads close together, whispering soft endearments or promising betrothal. "Stay here while I see if I can get a boat," said Louis, darting off, disappearing in the crowd. They had been joined by another neighbor, Madame Ganeau and her daughter Delisse, and her daughter's lover, a gay young fellow. "He will have hard work," declared Jacques. "I tried. Not a canoe or a pirogue or a flat boat. I wish him the joy of success." "Then we will have to paddle ourselves," said Jeanne. "Or float, Marie. I can float beautifully when the tide is serene." "I would not dare it for a hundred golden louis d'or," interposed Delisse. "But Jeanne dares everything. Do you remember when she climbed the palisade? When one has a lover--" and Marie sighed a little. "One comes to her senses and is no longer a child," said Madame Ganeau with a touch of sharpness in her voice. "The saints alone know what will become of that wild thing. Marie, since your mother is so busy with her household, some one should look you up a lover. Thou art most fourteen if I remember rightly." "Yes, Madame." "Well, there is time to be sure. Delisse will be fifteen on her wedding day. That is plenty old enough. For you see the girl bows to her husband, which is as it should be. A girl well brought up should have no temper nor ways of her own and then she more easily drops into those of her husband, who is the head of the house." "I have a temper!" laughed Jeanne. "And I do not want any husband to rule over me as if I were a squaw." "He will rule thee in the end. And if thou triest him too far he may beat thee." "If he struck me I should--I should kill him," and Jeanne's eyes flashed fire. "Thou wilt have more sense, then. And if lovers are shy of thee thou wilt begin to long for them when thou art like a dried up autumn rose on its stem." Jeanne bridled and flung up her chin. Pierre took her soft hand in his rough one. "Do not mind," he said in a whisper; "I would never beat you even if you did not have dinner ready. And I will bring you lovely furs and whatever you want. My father is willing to send me up in the fur country next year." Jeanne laughed, then turned to sudden gravity and gave back the pressure of the hand in repentance.