“That will come along,” and another nodded with a mysterious but merry smile. “That is why he is smartening up so. And he has brought some elegant stuffs from Canada to dress her in when he gets her. Madame Aubrey was in yesterday and bought of him a gown for Genevieve. He was showing her some finery that would adorn a bride. I think we shall hear before long.” They all nodded and glanced sidewise from Elise to Sophie as if they might have something to do with it. “I must go,” exclaimed Renée, her face flushing. “No, wait, I am not ready,” said Sophie. But Renée courtesied to them all and flashed through the rose-hung entrance. She ran swiftly down the street, turned the corner to her own home, and entered the gate. Mère Lunde sat at the doorway knitting. “Where is Uncle Gaspard?” she cried breathlessly. “In the shop chaffering. They have found him out, you see, and I hope the good Father of all will send him prosperity,” crossing herself devoutly. Renée dropped down on the doorstep. Her child’s heart was in a tumult. Had not the house been planned for her, and the pretty room made especially? Where would he put a wife? His small place in the corner of the shop, hung about with curtains, was not fit, since the wife would be Ma’m’selle Barbe, whose pretty white bed had fringed hangings that she had learned to knot while she was in New Orleans. “Why do you sigh so, little one?” Renée could not contain her anxiety. “O ma mère, do you think Uncle Gaspard will marry?” she cried with passionate vehemence. “Will he bring a wife here to live with us?” “What has put such a thing in thy head, child? Surely the good priest would not venture to suggest that to thee!” “It was in the Guions’ garden. I went there with the girls. And some one said he had fixed the house for that, and they smiled and I knew who they meant.” She wiped some tears from her hot cheek. “Who was it?” the dame asked simply. “Who should it be but Ma’m’selle Barbe! Oh, I could guess who they thought would come.” “Ma’m’selle is a pretty girl and sweet tempered. She has a dot, too,” said the placid woman. “But then I think——” Renée burst into a passion of tears, and springing up stamped on the ground. “She shall not come here!” she cried vehemently. “She shall not have Uncle Gaspard! Oh, why did he go clear to Canada for me, why did he bring me here?” “There was your gran’père——” “But he doesn’t want me. No one wants me!” “Chut! chut! little one. Do not get in such a passion. Surely a child could not help it if it was to be so. But now that I think the matter over, he said I must come, as there would be no one here to look after you, and that your gran’père’s was no place for you. Truly, it is not, if the whispers about him are well grounded. It is said the river pirates gather there. And he goes away for weeks at a time. No, I do not believe M. Denys means to marry.”