"But, now, as to that, Hector, listen!" said Dunwody sharply. "We will hold the meeting here just the same. We do not run away! To-night, in front of the hall there. "But why trouble about that?" he added, almost lightly. "What comes, comes. Now, as to yourself and your mother--and your wife?" "And those baby!" exclaimed Hector. "Assuredly monsieur does not forget the finest baby of St. Genevieve? Come, you shall see Josephine St. Auban Jeanne Marie Fournier--at once, _tout de suite_. _Voila_!" Hector was rolling down his sleeves and loosening the string of his leathern apron. Suddenly he turned. "But, Monsieur," he said, "come, I have news! It is a situation _un peu difficile_; but it can not be concealed, and what can not be concealed may best be revealed." "What news?" asked Dunwody. "More bad news?" "Not in the least, as we of my household regard it. With monsieur, I am not so certain. It is _quelque chose un peu difficile, mais oui_. But then--Monsieur remembers that lady, the Countess--?" "Countess? Whom do you mean?" "Who but our madame, the Countess St. Auban in her own right? She who gave me my Jeanne--_at Tallwoods_, Monsieur! Have you not known? She is, here. She is _chez nous_. Of wealth and distinction, yes, she has traveled in this country merely for divertisement--but the Countess St. Auban, yes, she pauses now with the cooper, Hector Fournier! Does one find such beauty, such distinction, such gentleness, such kindness, such courteousness elsewhere than among the nobility?" "When did she come?" demanded Dunwody quietly. "But yesterday, upon the boat; without announcement. She is at this very moment at my house yonder, busy with that baby, Josephine St. Auban Jeanne Marie Fournier, named for a countess! But do not turn back! Monsieur himself has not yet seen the baby. Come!" For one moment Dunwody paused; then, quietly, he accompanied Hector, making no comment. He limped just slightly. He was older--yes, and graver. The mother of Hector met them even before the gate was opened. Her voice called to the door her daughter Jeanne, who was shaking hands with Dunwody before he was half way up the walk. The ejaculations of Jeanne attracted yet another ear farther within the house. A moment later Dunwody saw pass before the door a figure which he recognized, a face which called the blood to his own face. An instant later, forgetting everything, he was at the door, had her hands in his own. "It is you!" he exclaimed. "How does it happen? It is impossible!" Her face had more color than for days. "Yes, it is unexpected," she said simply, at last. "Everything is unexpected. But of all things possible, this it seems to me is best--to come here--to rest for a time." "You are passing through to St. Louis?" "Perhaps," she said. "My plans for the moment are somewhat unsettled. I stopped off here, as no doubt you know, to serve as godmother to this baby of Jeanne's! It is an important errand."