crippled father was
in keeping with her quick response to every incident of sorrow or joy in
the parish--only modified by wilful prejudices scarcely in keeping with
her unselfishness.

As Mrs. Flynn, the Seigneur's Irish cook, said of her: "Shure, she's not
made all av wan piece, the darlin'! She'll wear like silk, but she's not
linen for everybody's washin'." And Mrs. Flynn knew a thing or two, as
was conceded by all in Chaudiere. No gossip was Mrs. Flynn, but she knew
well what was going on in the parish, and she had strong views upon
all subjects, and a special interest in the welfare of two people in
Chaudiere. One of these was the Seigneur, who, when her husband died,
leaving behind him a name for wit and neighbourliness, and nothing else,
proposed that she should come to be his cook. In spite of her protest
that what was "fit for Teddy was not fit for a gintleman of quality,"
the Seigneur had had his way, never repenting of his choice. Mrs.
Flynn's cooking was not her only good point. She had the rarest sense
and an unfailing spring of good-nature--life bubbled round her. It was
she that had suggested the crippled M. Evanturel to the Seigneur when
the office of postmaster became vacant, and the Seigneur had acted on
her suggestion, henceforth taking greater interest in Rosalie.

It was Mrs. Flynn who gave Rosalie information concerning Charley's
arrival at the shop of Louis Trudel the tailor. The morning after
Charley came, Mrs. Flynn had called for a waistcoat of the Seigneur, who
was expected home from a visit to Quebec. She found Charley standing at
a table pressing seams, and her quick eye took him in with knowledge and
instinct. She was the one person, save Rosalie, who could always divert
old Louis, and this morning she puckered his sour face with amusement by
the story of the courtship of the widow Plomondon and Germain Boily the
horse-trainer, whose greatest gift was animal-training, and greatest
weakness a fondness for widows, temporary and otherwise. Before she left
the shop, with the stranger's smile answering to her nod, she had made
up her mind that Charley was a tailor by courtesy only. So she told
Rosalie a few moments afterwards.

"'Tis a man, darlin', that's seen the wide wurruld. 'Tis himisperes he
knows, not parrishes. Fwhat's he doin' here, I dun'no'. Fwhere's he come
from, I dun'no'. French or English, I dun'no'. But a gintleman born, I
know. 'Tis no tailor, darlin', but tailorin' he'll do