Amy decided that it was hardly wise to burden herself with the cannon-ball, and she didn't care especially for the pipes. "There's something else here," said the woman, "if you won't be offended at my showing it. Some Americans--" "How did you know that we were Americans?" interrupted Amy. "Oh, as soon as ever a Yankee--there, I beg your pardon--any one from the States opens her mouth--" "She puts her foot in it," returned Amy, with a smile. "No, no, I wouldn't say a word against the accent, but I can always tell it. I have a sister married in the States, and her children speak like their father. When they come to visit me I tell them that they are regular Yankees. Not that I have anything against that; I hope I'll live to see Boston some time." "Have you never been there?" asked Priscilla, in surprise. "No, Miss; I know that it isn't so far away, but I was born in the Old Country, and when I take a trip, that's where I'd rather go;" and the little woman sighed. "But I'll show you the curiosity I spoke of." From a drawer behind the counter she drew a small fan, one or two of whose sticks were broken, while the silk was faded and torn. "I bought that from an old lady who said that her grandmother fanned an officer who was wounded at the Battle of Bunker Hill, while he lay sick in her house after the battle. Perhaps I oughtn't to speak of it," she concluded apologetically. "Why not? The war's entirely over, and no one has any feeling about it now." "I suppose not." But the woman's voice carried a question. "Why, to prove that I have no resentment I'll buy the fan,--even if it did once soothe the brow of a hated Britisher." Amy smiled at Priscilla as she spoke. The price named came so well within Amy's means that she half doubted the authenticity of the relic. Of her doubts, however, she gave no hint to the talkative little Englishwoman. Instead, by what she afterwards called a genuine inspiration, she asked some question about the French people at Pubnico. "Oh, they are good enough," said the woman, "and spend plenty of money in Yarmouth; and there's many of the young people working here in our shops and mills, although many French come from Meteghan and up that way." "Meteghan?" queried Amy. "Yes, that's a pretty country up North on St Mary's Bay, and all French. If you're going to Digby you'd better stop off." "But we were going straight through to Digby." "Yes, most people go straight through, and don't know what they miss. You see, the natives up there are Acadians, and it's kind of foreign like, for they mostly speak only French. My husband and I, we went up there once and stayed at the hotel, for he had an order for some goods that he had to see about himself." While Mrs. Lufkins was talking the practical Priscilla had taken out her notebook, in which she wrote the name of the station and other things that would help them. "Do you think that your mother would like to change her plans?"