"You are quite beyond me!" muttered Law. "You and your Mam’selle, you are a pair." "I love to think that. Mam’selle has been more than a mother to me. I am so glad you know all about us." Law did know, from Father Mantelle. "I feel, wrong as it may seem," the priest had once confided to Law, "like making the sign of the cross whenever I come in the presence of Mam’selle Morey." "Well, crosses have apparently been quite in her line," Law laughed back, "she’d naturally take it as a countersign." Law had a habit that reminded Jo of Langley, of Donelle and, indeed now that she reflected, of others besides, who knew her more or less intimately. He would sit and watch her while she worked and then, without rhyme or reason, smile. Often, indeed, he laughed. "Am I so amusing?" she asked Law once. "Not so amusing, Mam’selle, as consumedly comical." "Comical, Mr. Law?" Jo frowned. "No good in scowling, Mam’selle. I mean no reflection. The fact is, you’ve taken us all into camp, we might as well laugh." "Camp, Mr. Law?" The brows lifted. "Yes, you made us look like small beer and then you forgive us, and label us champagne!" "Mr. Law, you talk!" Jo sniffed. "I certainly do, Mam’selle." "I do not understand your tongue." "I’ll wager a dollar to a doughnut that Donelle does." "Umph! Well, then, Donelle, just you tell me what he means." They were all sitting around the hot stove, a winter storm howling outside. "I’m afraid I cannot very well, Mamsey. But I know what he means." "Do your best, child. I hate to be kept guessing." "Well, it is something like this:" Donelle looked at Law, getting guidance from his eyes, "some people, not as blessed as you, Mamsey, might not have forgiven all those years when no one knew! You were so big and silent and brave, you made them all look pretty small. And now when they do know, you somehow let them do the large, kind things that you make possible, and you stand aside, praising them." "Nonsense!" Jo snapped. "Who’s blowing my horn, I’d like to know?" "Oh! Mamsey, it’s your horn, but you let others think it isn’t. Who was it that made Father Mantelle come out and compel his people to go overseas?" "That’s silly, Donelle. When he came to his senses, he saw he’d be mobbed if he didn’t." "Oh! Mamsey, you bullied him outrageously. And who sees to old Pierre?" "You, child. You can’t see your husband’s father want, when it’s rheumatism, not bad whiskey, that’s laying him low." "Oh! Mamsey! And who got Marcel little flags to put on—on those graves on the hill because it would make her feel proud?"