Produced by David Widger THE MOTHERS OF HONORÉ From “Mackinac And Lake Stories”, 1899 By Mary Hartwell Catherwood The sun was shining again after squalls, and the strait showed violet, green, red, and bronze lines, melting and intermingling each changing second. Metallic lustres shone as if some volcanic fountain on the lake-bed were spraying the surface. Jules McCarty stood at his gate, noting this change in the weather with one eye. He was a small, old man, having the appearance of a mummied boy. His cheek-bones shone apple-red, and his partial blindness had merely the effect of a prolonged wink. Jules was keeping melancholy holiday in his best clothes, the well-preserved coat parting its jaunty tails a little below the middle of his back. Another old islander paused at the gate in passing, The two men shook their heads at each other. “I went to your wife's funeral this morning, Jules,” said the passer, impressing on the widower's hearing an important fact which might have escaped his one eye. “You was at de funer'l? Did you see Thérèse?” “Yes, I saw her.” “Ah, what a fat woman dat was! I make some of de peop' feel her arm. I feed her well.” The other old man smiled, but he was bound to say, “I'm sorry for you, Jules.” “Did you see me at de church?” “Yes, I went to the church.” “You t'ink I feel bad--eh?” “I thought you felt pretty bad.” “You go to de graveyard, too?” “No,” admitted his sympathizer, reluctantly, “I didn't go to the graveyard.” “But dat was de fines'. You ought see me at de graveyard. You t'ink I feel bad at de church--I raise hell at de graveyard.” The friend shuffled his feet and coughed behind his hand. “Yes, I feel bad, me,” ruminated the bereaved man. “You get used to some woman in de house and not know where to get anodder.” “Haven't you had your share, Jules?” inquired his friend, relaxing gladly to banter. “I have one fine wife, maman to Honoré,” enumerated Jules, “and de squaw, and Lavelotte's widow, and Thérèse. It is not much.” “I've often wondered why you didn't take Me-linda Crée. You've no objection to Indians. She's next door to you, and she knows how to nurse in sickness, besides being a good washer and ironer. The summer folks say she makes the best fish pies on the island.”