on halted before the house, and Father Antoine advanced,
bearing in his hands a gay wreath of flowers. The people had wished that
this should be placed on Hetty's head, but Father Antoine had persuaded
them to waive this part of the ceremony. He knew well that this would be
more than Hetty could bear. Holding the wreath in his hands, therefore,
he addressed a few words to Hetty, and then took his place by her side.
Now was Marie's moment of joy. Springing to one side as quickly as her
rheumatic old joints would permit, she revealed what she had been trying
to hide behind her scant petticoat. It was a white lamb, decorated from
ears to tail with knots of ribbon and with flowers. The poor little
thing tugged hard at the string by which it was held, and shook its
pretty head in restless impatience under its load of finery, and bleated
piteously: but for all that it was a very pretty sight; and the broken
English with which Marie, on behalf of the villagers, presented the
little creature to Hetty, was prettier still. When they reached Hetty's
gate, all the women who had hold of the long pine wreath gave their
places to men; and, in the twinkling of an eye, the lithe vigorous
fellows were on the fences, on the posts of the porch, nailing the
wreath in festoons everywhere; from the gateway to the door in long
swinging loops, above the porch, in festoons over the windows, under the
eaves, and hanging in long waving ends on the walls. Then they hung upon
the door the crown which Hetty had not worn, and the little children set
their gay pots of flowers on the window-sills and around the porch;
and all was a merry hubbub of voices and laughter. Hetty grasped Father
Antoine by the arm.

"Oh, do you speak to them, and thank them for me! I can't!" she said;
and Father Antoine saw tears in her eyes.

"But you must speak to them, my daughter," he replied, "else they will
be grieved. They cannot understand that you are pleased if you say no
word. I will speak first till you are more calm."

When Father Antoine had finished his speech, Hetty stepped forward, and
looking round on all their faces, said:

"I do not know how to thank you, friends. I never saw any thing like
this before, and it makes me dumb. All I can say is that you have filled
my heart with joy, and I feel no more a stranger: your village is my
home."

"Thanks to thee, then, for that! Thanks to thee! And the good saints
bless the day thou wert born," shouted the peop