Madame McAllister was
nothing if not practical, and cooking was one of her strong points. Her
_bouillon_, a sort of hotch-potch, was so good that a hungry Esau might
well have bartered his birthright for it. Her pancakes and _galettes_
were marvels of culinary skill.
Noel, having appeased his appetite, sharpened by the salt sea breezes,
and after enjoying a pipe, said, "Now, my mother, I think I shall go out
for a walk and hear the news. I shall not be late."
"Very well, my son. Come back soon," said the old lady, and, as she heard
the door close on Noel, she smiled grimly to herself and muttered,
"The news, eh? The news! That is to say in plain words, Marie Gourdon."
CHAPTER III.
"Il y a longtemps qui je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai."
French Canadian Song.
It is a beautiful evening. The tide is rushing in over the crisp yellow
sands of the beach at Father Point. The sun is setting slowly, as if
loath to leave this part of the world, and, as he departs, touches with
his rays the gold and crimson tops of the maple and sumach trees, which
border the road leading into the churchyard of the Good St.
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