"Yere," he said, handing it to her, "I think this is the prettied'; an' it look' strong too. I'm sho' it will break all of the res'." And he playfully held out another, half-hidden in his fist, for her to try its strength upon. But she refused to. She would not risk the ruin of her pretty egg. Then she walked away, without once having noticed that the girls, whom Azenor had left, were looking curiously at her. When he rejoined them, he was hardly prepared for their greeting; it startled him. "How come you talk to that girl? She's real canaille, her," was what one of them said to him. "Who say' so? Who say she's canaille? If it's a man, I 'll smash 'is head!" he exclaimed, livid. They all laughed merrily at this. "An' if it's a lady, Azenor? W'at you goin' to do 'bout it?" asked another, quizzingly. "T ain' no lady. No lady would say that 'bout a po' girl, w'at she don't even know." He turned away, and emptying all his eggs into the hat of a little urchin who stood near, walked out of the churchyard. He did not stop to exchange another word with any one; neither with the men who stood all _endimanchés_ before the stores, nor the women who were mounting upon horses and into vehicles, or walking in groups to their homes. He took a short cut across the cotton-field that extended back of the town, and walking rapidly, soon reached his home. It was a pleasant house of few rooms and many windows, with fresh air blowing through from every side; his workshop was beside it. A broad strip of greensward, studded here and there with trees, sloped down to the road. Azenor entered the kitchen, where an amiable old black woman was chopping onion and sage at a table. "Tranquiline," he said abruptly, "they's a young girl goin' to pass yere afta a w'ile. She's got a blue dress an' w'ite josie on, an' a veil on her head. W'en you see her, I want you to go to the road an' make her res' there on the bench, an' ask her if she don't want a cup o' coffee. I saw her go to communion, me; so she did n't eat any break-fas'. Eve'ybody else f'om out o' town, that went to communion, got invited somew'ere another. It's enough to make a person sick to see such meanness." "An' you want me ter go down to de gate, jis' so, an' ax 'er pineblank ef she wants some coffee?" asked the bewildered Tranquiline. "I don't care if you ask her poin' blank o' not; but you do like I say." Tranquiline was leaning over the gate when Lalie came along. "Howdy," offered the woman. "Howdy," the girl returned. "Did you see a yalla calf wid black spots a t'arm' down de lane, missy?" "Non; not yalla, an' not with black spot'. _Mais_ I see one li'le w'ite calf tie by a rope, yonda 'roun' the ben'." "Dat warn't hit. Dis heah one was yalla. I hope he done flung hisse'f down de bank an' broke his nake. Sarve 'im right! But whar you come f'om, chile? You look plum wo' out. Set down dah on dat bench, an' le' me fotch you a cup o' coffee."