Save only for my Saguenay, who stood on the veranda roof, resting upon his rifle, the scene was sweet and peaceful. Sheep bleated in yard and fold; cattle lowed in their manger; our cock's full-throated challenge rang out under sunny skies; and everywhere the blue air was murmurous with the voice of rills running from the melting snows like mountain brooks. On Vlaie Water the ice rotted awash; and already black crows were walking there, and I could see them busily searching the dead and yellow sedge, from where I sat hooping my sap-buckets and softly whistling to myself. Nick made a snowball and flung it at me, but I dodged it. Then Penelope made another and aimed it at me so truly that the soft lump covered my cap and shoulders with snow. But her quick peal of laughter was checked when I sprang up to chasten her, and she fled on her pattens, but I caught her around the corner of the house under the lilacs. "You should be trussed up and trounced like any child," said I, holding her with one hand whilst I scraped out snow from my neck with t'other. At that she bent and flung a handful of snow over me; and I seized her, bent her back, and scrubbed her face till it was pink. Choked with snow and laughter, we swayed together, breathless, she still defiant and snatching up snow to fling over me. "_You_ truss _me_ up!" she panted. "Do you think you are more than a boy to use me as a father or a husband only has the right?" "You little minx!" said I, when I had spat out a mouthful of snow, "is not anyone free to trounce a child!----" At that I slipped, or she tripped me; into a drift I went, and she pounced on me and sat astride with a cry of triumph. "Now," says she, "I shall take your scalp, my fine friend"; and twisted one hand in my hair. "Hiu-u! Kou-ee!" she cried, "a scalp taken means war to the end! Do you cry me mercy, John Drogue?" I struggled, but the snow was soft and I sank the deeper, and could not unseat her. "I drown in snow," said I. "Get up, you jade!" "Jade!" cries she, and stopped my mouth with snow. I struggled in vain; under her clinging weight the soft snow engulfed and held me like a very quicksand. I looked up at her and she laughed down at me. "Do you yield you, John Drogue?" "It seems I must. But wait!----" "You threaten!" "No! Do you mean to drown me, you vixen!" "You engage not to seek revenge?" "I do so." "Why? Because you love me tenderly?" "Yes," said I, half choked. "Let me up, you plague of Egypt!" "That is not a loving speech, John Drogue. Do you love me or no?" "Yes, I do,--you little,----" "Little what?" "Object of my heart's desire!" I fairly yelled. "I am like to smother here!----" "This is All Fools' Day," says she, sick with laughter to see me mad and at her mercy. "Therefore, you must tell me lies, not truths. Tell me a pretty lie,--quickly!--else I scrub your features!" After a helpless heave or two I lay still.