Thérèse had ruled there as mistress from the day Fidèle had gone away. That was so long ago now, that it had never occurred to her that her sister would return, and the Père Théophile, a wise ruler, who, while his flock did their duty according to what he considered their lights, and were duly submissive, did not unnecessarily fret them with abstract questions of affinity, ignored any irregularity, collected the church dues from them, and christened the children. There were but two of these, and girls both, to the intense disappointment and mortification of Paul. Imagine his satisfaction, then, to find himself in possession of a well-grown son of fifteen years--well-grown, and such a player at lacrosse. Was it not he alone, and not the Brautford band in general, who had beaten the Caughnawagas? And now he would be of the Caughnawagas himself, and Paul would make much money, in bets and otherwise, out of his son's fine play. He received, then, his new-found family into his home and established them there with honour. Young Paul, with the privileges of a "buck," lolled about the place, eating, sleeping, smoking all day long, like his father. Fidèle sat by the hearth in her blanket and smoked her pipe, while the household drudgery, now doubled by the addition to the household, trebled by the presence of a squaw claiming to be first wife, criticizing, ordering, and doing no work, fell on Thérèse and her girls--to cut and carry wood, draw water, dig potatoes, cook, and share the leavings, after the more considered members had eaten their fill. It was hard lines. The village was speedily aware of the accession to its inhabitants. That same evening the crest-fallen lacrosse players were told that old Paul had recognized young Paul as his son, and brought him away from the Brautford band to themselves; and all the bucks in the Reservation came to welcome the certain winner of games, and congratulate his father. The middle-aged squaws recollected Fidèle, and came to praise her son, squatting round the hearth in their blankets with lighted pipes, while poor Thérèse, deposed from her motherhood of the house, stole out to the garden-patch to dig and bewail her fate.