he
boy. "The house is mine any time I like to say so. If the store bill
ain't paid to-night, out you go to-morrow, or else pay rent. Tell your
mother that for me. Mosey off now. '_Marche, donc!_' There's no other
way."

Little Baptiste had not told his mother of this terrible threat, for
what was the use? She had no money. He knew that she would begin
weeping and wailing, with small Andre and Odillon as a puzzled,
excited chorus, with 'Toinette and Seraphine adding those baby cries
that made little Baptiste want to cry himself; with his grandmother
steadily advising, in the din, that patient trust in _le bon Dieu_
which he could not always entertain, though he felt very wretched that
he could not.

Moreover, he desired to spare his mother and grandmother as long as
possible. "Let them have their good night's sleep," said he to
himself, with such thoughtfulness and pity as a merchant might feel in
concealing imminent bankruptcy from his family. He knew there was but
one chance remaining,--that his father might come home during the
night or next morning, with his winter's wages.

Big Baptiste had "gone up" for Rewbell the jobber; had gone in
November, to make logs in the distant Petawawa woods, and now the
month was May. The "very magnificent" pig he had salted down before
going away had been eaten long ago. My! what a time it seemed now to
little Baptiste since that pig-killing! How good the _boudin_ (the
blood-puddings) had been, and the liver and tender bits, and what a
joyful time they had had! The barrelful of salted pike and catfish was
all gone too,--which made the fact that fish were not biting well this
year very sad indeed.

Now on top of all these troubles this new danger of being turned out
on the roadside! For where are they to get four dollars, or two, or
one even, to stave Conolly off? Certainly his father was away too
long; but surely, surely, thought the boy, he would get back in time
to save his home! Then he remembered with horror, and a feeling of
being disloyal to his father for remembering, that terrible day, three
years before, when big Baptiste had come back from his winter's work
drunk, and without a dollar, having been robbed while on a spree in
Ottawa. If that were the reason of his father's delay now, ah, then
there would be no hope, unless _le bon Dieu_ should indeed work a
miracle for them!

While the boy thought over the situation with fear, his grandmother
went to her bed, and soon