She met the suitor with a friendly greeting as if he were an ordinary visitor, and they talked of the impending changes in the town, the coming of the Americans, the stir in business prospects, M. Beeson was not much of a waster of words, and he came to the point presently. "It will be hard to spare Marie," she said with an accent of regret. "Being the eldest she has had a great deal of experience. She is like a mother to the younger ones. She has not been spending her time in fooling around idly and dancing and being out on the river, like so many girls. Rose is not worth half of Marie, and I do not see how I shall ever get the trifler trained to take Marie's place. But there need be no immediate haste." "O Madame, we can do our courting afterward. I can take Mam'selle out to the booths Saturday night, and we can look at the dancing. There will be all day Sunday when I am at liberty. But you see there is the house going to wrack, the servant spending my money, and the discomfort. I miss my sister so much. And I thought we would not make a long story. Dear Madame, you must see the need." "It is sad to be sure. But you see Marie being so young and kept rather close, not having any admirers, it takes us suddenly. And the wedding gear--" "Mam'selle always looks tidy. But I suppose a girl wants some show at the church and the maids. Well, one doesn't get married many times in one's life. But I would like it to be by Christmas. It will be a little dull with me no doubt, and toward spring it is all hurry and drive, Antoine here and Antoine there. New boats and boats to be patched and canoes and dugouts. Then the big ships are up for repairs. I have worked moonlight nights, Madame. And Christmas is a pleasurable time." "Yes, a pleasant time for a girl to remember. I was married at Pentecost. And there was the great procession. Dear! dear! It is not much over seventeen years ago and we have nine children." "Pierre is a big lad, Madame, and a great help to his father. Children are a pleasure and comfort in one's old age if they do well. And thine are being well brought up. Marie is so good and steady. It is not wisdom for a man like me to choose a flighty girl." "Marie will make a good wife," returned Madame, confidently. And so when Marie returned it was all settled and Antoine had been invited to tea. Marie was in a desperate flutter. Of course there was nothing for her to say and she would not have had the courage to say it if there had been. But she could not help comparing him with Martin Lavosse, and some of the young men who greeted her at church. If his face were not quite so red, and his figure so clumsy! His hands, too, were broad with stubby ends to the fingers. She looked at her own; they were quite shapely, for youth has a way of throwing off the marks of toil that are ready enough to come back in later life.