"Monsieur," with much dignity, "if you are so grand why do you not have a language of your own?" "Because"--he was about to say--"we were English in the beginning," but the sharp, satirical curves lurking around her mouth checked him. What an odd, piquant creature she was! "Come away," and Pani pulled her hand. "You talk too much to people and make M'sieu idle." "O Pani!" She gave an exultant cry and sprang away, then stopped short. For it was not only her friend, but a number of gentlemen in military attire and mounted on horses with gay trappings. Monsieur St. Armand waved his hand to her. She shrank back and caught Pani's gown. "It is General Wayne," said the lieutenant, and paid him something more than the demands of superior rank, for admiration was in his eyes and Jeanne noticed it. "My little friend," said St. Armand, leaning down toward Jeanne, "I am glad to see you again." He turned a trifle. The general and his aids were on a tour of inspection, and now the brave soldier leaped from the saddle, giving the child a glance. "I have been coming to find you," began Monsieur. "I have many things to say to your attendant. Especially as in a few days I go away." "O Monsieur, is it because you do not like--" her eyes followed the general's suite. "It is because I like them so well. I go to their capital on some business, and then to France. But I shall return in a year, perhaps. A year is not very long." "Just a winter and a summer. There are many of them to life?" "To some lives, yes. I hope there will be to yours, happy ones." "I am always happy when I can run about or sail on the river. There are so many delightful things when no one bothers you." "And the bothers are, I suppose, when some one considers your way not the best for you. We all meet with such things in life." "My own way is the best," she replied, willfully, a daring light shining in her eyes. "Do I not know what gives me the most pleasure? If I want to go out and sing with the birds or run mad races with the dogs, or play with the children outside, that is the thing which gives me joy and makes my blood rush warm and bright in my veins. Monsieur, I told you I did not like to be shut up." "Well, well. Remain in your little cottage this afternoon, and let me come and talk to you. I think I will not make you unhappy." "Your voice is so sweet, Monsieur, but if you say disagreeable things, if you want me to learn to sew and to read--and to spin--the De Bers have just had a spinning wheel come. It is a queer thing and hums strangely. And Marie will learn to spin, her mother says. Then she will never be able to go in the woods for wild grapes and nuts. No, I cannot spend my time being so busy. And I do not care for stockings. Leggings are best for winter. And Touchas makes me moccasins." Her feet and ankles were bare now. Dainty and shapely they were, and would have done for models.