_Zoe._ No, Wahnotee, we can't spare Paul. _Paul._ If Omenee remain, Wahnotee will die in Terrebonne. [_During the dialogue_ Wahnotee _has taken_ George's _gun._] _Enter_ George, L. _George._ Now I'm ready. [George _tries to regain his gun;_ Wahnotee _refuses to give it up;_ Paul _quietly takes it from him and remonstrates with him._] _Dora._ Zoe, he's going; I want him to stay and make love to me that's what I came for to-day. _Mrs. P._ George, I can't spare Paul for an hour or two; he must run over to the landing; the steamer from New Orleans passed up the river last night, and if there's a mail they have thrown it ashore. _Sunny._ I saw the mail-bags lying in the shed this morning. _Mrs. P._ I expect an important letter from Liverpool; away with you, Paul; bring the mail-bags here. _Paul._ I'm 'most afraid to take Wahnotee to the shed, there's rum there. _Wahnotee._ Rum! _Paul._ Come, then, but if I catch you drinkin', O, laws a mussey, you'll get snakes! I'll gib it you! now mind. [_Exit with_ Indian, R. U. E. _George._ Come, Miss Dora, let me offer you my arm. _Dora._ Mr. George, I am afraid, if all we hear is true, you have led a dreadful life in Europe. _George._ That's a challenge to begin a description of my feminine adventures. _Dora._ You have been in love, then? _George._ Two hundred and forty-nine times! Let me relate you the worst cases. _Dora._ No! no! _George._ I'll put the naughty parts in French. _Dora._ I won't hear a word! O, you horrible man! go on. [_Exit_ George _and_ Dora _to house._ _M'Closky._ Now, ma'am, I'd like a little business, if agreeable. I bring you news; your banker, old Lafouche, of New Orleans, is dead; the executors are winding up his affairs, and have foreclosed on all overdue mortgages, so Terrebonne is for sale. Here's the Picayune [_producing paper_] with the advertisement. _Zoe._ Terrebonne for sale! _Mrs. P._ Terrebonne for sale, and you, sir, will doubtless become its purchaser. _M'Closky._ Well, ma'am, I spose there's no law agin my bidding for it. The more bidders, the better for you. You'll take care, I guess, it don't go too cheap. _Mrs. P._ O, sir, I don't value the place for its price, but for the many happy days I've spent here; that landscape, flat and uninteresting though it may be, is full of charm for me; those poor people, born around me, growing up about my heart, have bounded my view of life; and now to lose that homely scene, lose their black, ungainly faces; O, sir, perhaps you should be as old as I am, to feel as I do, when my past life is torn away from me. _M'Closky._ I'd be darned glad if somebody would tear my past life away from me. Sorry I can't help you, but the fact is, you're in such an all-fired mess that you couldn't be pulled out without a derrick. _Mrs. P._ Yes, there is a hope left yet, and I cling to it. The house of Mason Brothers, of Liverpool, failed some twenty years ago in my husband's debt.