"Why they seem right for the men to know," laughed Jeanne. "How else could they be bartering and counting money? And it is said that Madame Ganeau goes over her husband's books every week since they found Jules Froment was a thief, and kept wrong accounts, putting the money in his own pocket." Jeanne raised her voice triumphantly. "Oh, here they are!" cried Cecile followed by a string of girls. "And look, they have found a harvest, their pails are almost full. You mean, selfish things!" "Why you had the same right to be hunting everywhere," declared Jeanne stoutly. "We found a good place and we picked--that is all there is of it." "But you might have called us." Jeanne laughed in a tantalizing manner. "O Jeanne Angelot, you think yourself some great things because you live inside the stockade and go to a school where they teach all manner of lies to the children. Your place is out in some Indian wigwam. You're half Indian, anyhow." "Look at us!" Jeanne made a sudden bound and placed herself beside Cecile, whose complexion was swarthy, her hair straight, black, and rather coarse, and her dark eyes had a yellowish tinge, even to the whites. "Perhaps I am the descendant of some Indian princess--I should be proud of it, for the Indians once held all this great new world; and the French and English could not hold it." There was a titter among the girls. Never had Jeanne looked prouder or handsomer, and Cecile's broad nose distended with anger while her lips were purple. She was larger but she did not dare attack Jeanne, for she knew the nature and the prowess of the tiger cat. "Let us go home; it gets late," cried one of the girls, turning her companion about. "O Jeanne," whispered Marie, "how splendid you are! No husband would ever dare beat you." "I should tear out his eyes if he did." CHAPTER VII. LOVERS AND LOVERS. There were days when Jeanne Angelot thought she should smother in the stuffy school, and the din of the voices went through her head like the rushing noise of a whirlwind. She had stolen out of the room once or twice and had not been called to an account for it. Then one day she saw a boy whipped severely for the same thing. Children were so often beaten in those days, and yet the French habitans were very fond of their offspring. Jeanne lingered after the children made their clumsy bows and shuffled out. "Well, what is it?" asked the gruff master. "Monsieur, you whipped the Dorien boy for running away from school." "Yes, and I'll do it again. I'll break up the bad practice. Their parents send them to school. They do a mean, dishonest thing and then they lie about it. Don't come sniveling to me about Dorien." "Monsieur, I was not going to snivel for anybody. You were right to keep your word. If you had promised a holiday and not given it to us we should have felt that you were mean and not of your word. So what is right for one side is right for the other."