All these things would soon be memories, banked in her mind forever and ever. Monsieur Tremblent and Oisette returned to Montreal by rail, leaving the ancient walled city soon after the noontime, and, journeying back by a fast express, they reached the Place Viger railway station at six o'clock. Oisette proved to be a very good traveler. She enjoyed the view, she did not jump down from her seat and tear about as some other children were doing, but sat as her father had told her, and counted or tried to, the trees as they flew past. Sometimes she hummed softly her favorite song: "Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette Je te plumerai, Je te plumerai la tête, Je te plumerai la tête, O Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette Je te plumerai." A very pleasant surprise was when they reached Montreal, and her father decided to stop at the Place Viger Hotel for a meal before they should take the trolley home. For, to tell the truth, Oisette was very hungry indeed, and so was her father. Presently they were seated at a little table out on a beautiful stone balcony, with pretty striped awnings, potted plants, where there was an orchestra of young ladies, all dressed in white, who played delightful music. The young lady at the piano kept smiling at Oisette. It was a new experience for our little Quebec cousin to have a full course dinner, served so beautifully, and to have pink ice cream. Do you know that ice cream is almost unknown in a _Habitant_ home? To be sure, French children on the streets of Montreal have recently acquired "the ice cream cone habit"; but vendors of these sweets do not peddle their wares out in the country. Oisette ate her dessert slowly, her dark eyes followed the waiter as he came and went, and now and then she would glance over at the pianist. When the meal was finished and they were about to depart, to her great surprise, as they passed near the piano, she heard a voice say, "Bon soir, Oisette." Monsieur Tremblent stopped, too, and shook hands with several of the musicians; and Oisette gasped with surprise, for one of them was a cousin of Oisette's mother. This orchestra was composed originally of the members of one family. Five sisters all trained by the nuns at the Sacred Heart convent. In three years' time three of the sisters had married and in each case the gap had been filled by another pupil from this same convent. They were still known as the five sisters, and they still dressed exactly alike. The one who had addressed Oisette was the newest member of the little company. Only the winter previous, at the convent, our little Quebec cousin had played a duet with this Mlle. Archambeau, and had done her part so well that one of the nuns had said to her, "We shall hear of our little Oisette on the concert stage some day."