“She is only an Indian after all,” the girl exclaimed disdainfully. “And my mother thinks it a shame M’sieu Marchand should have married her when there were so many nice girls in St. Louis.” “But she is beautiful and sweet. And, Rosalie, Uncle Gaspard will not care to have you come if you say ugly things about her.” “Well, I can stay away. There are plenty of girls to play with. And I shall soon be a young ma’m’selle and have lovers of my own, then I shall not care for a little chit like you. You can even send the cat back if you like.” The cat had grown big and beautiful and kept the place free from mice and rats, which was a great object in the storeroom. Uncle Gaspard said he would not trade it for a handsome silver foxskin, which everybody knew was worth a great deal of money in France. Madame Marchand made many friends by her grace and amiability. She taught Renée some beautiful handiwork, and with the little girl was always a welcome visitor at Mattawissa’s, though at first they had as much difficulty understanding each other’s Indian language as if it had been English. But what a lovely, joyous summer it was, with its walks and water excursions up and down the river and on the great pond! On Saturday she went with Renée to be instructed in the Catechism, and whichever father was there he seemed impressed with Wawataysee’s sweet seriousness and gentle ways. Then autumn came on. The great fields of corn were cut, the grapes gathered and the wine made. The traders came in again and boats plied up and down. Uncle Gaspard was very busy, and the men about said, making money. The women wondered if Renée de Longueville would get it all, and what old Antoine Freneau had; if so she would be a great heiress. There were nuts to gather as well, and merry parties haunted the woods for them. Oh, what glorious days these were, quite enough to inspirit any one! Then without much warning a great fleecy wrap of snow fell over everything, but the sledging and the shouting had as much merriment in it. Gaspard Denys did not want Renée to go to midnight mass at Christmastide. “Oh, I am so much bigger and stronger now,” she said. “I am not going to be such a baby as to take cold. Oh, you will see.” She carried her point, of course. He could seldom refuse her anything. And the next morning she was bright enough to go to church again. And how sweet it was to see the children stop on the porch and with bowed heads exclaim, “Your blessing, ma mère, your blessing, mon père,” and shake hands with even the poorest, giving them good wishes. Then all parties went home to a family breakfast. Even the servants were called in. Then the children ran about with the étrennes to each other. “Uncle Gaspard,” Renée said, “I want to take something to my grandfather. He brought me that beautiful chain and cross last year, and I made a cake that Mère Lunde baked, and candied some pears, thinking of him.” “Perhaps he is not home. You can never tell.”