that startled them all. He had not spoken, and now they perceived
that he was haggard, pale, wild-eyed.

"The good God!" cried big Baptiste, and knelt by the bed, and bowed
his head on his arms, and wept so loudly that little Andre and
Odillon, wakening, joined his cry. "_Le bon Dieu_ has forgotten us!
For all my winter's work I have not one dollar! The concern is failed.
Rewbell paid not one cent of wages, but ran away, and the timber has
been seized."

Oh, the heartbreak! Oh, poor Delima! poor children! and poor little
Baptiste, with the threats of Conolly rending his heart!

"I have walked all day," said the father, "and eaten not a thing.
Give me something, Delima."

"O holy angels!" cried the poor woman, breaking into a wild weeping.
"O Baptiste, Baptiste, my poor man! There is nothing; not a scrap; not
any flour, not meal, not grease even; not a pinch of tea!" but still
she searched frantically about the rooms.

"Never mind," said big Baptiste then, holding her in his strong arms.
"I am not so hungry as tired, Delima, and I can sleep."

The old woman, who had been swaying to and fro in her chair of rushes,
rose now, and laid her aged hands on the broad shoulders of the man.

"My son Baptiste," she said, "you must not say that God has forgotten
us, for He has not forgotten us. The hunger is hard to bear, I
know,--hard, hard to bear; but great plenty will be sent in answer to
our prayers. And it is hard, hard to lose thy long winter's work; but
be patient, my son, and thankful, yes, thankful for all thou hast."

"Behold, Delima is well and strong. See the little Baptiste, how much
a man! Yes, that is right; kiss the little Andre and Odillon; and see!
how sweetly 'Toinette sleeps! All strong and well, son Baptiste! Were
one gone, think what thou wouldst have lost! But instead, be thankful,
for behold, another has been given,--the little Seraphine here, that
thou hast not before seen!"

Big, rough, soft-hearted Baptiste knelt by the cradle, and kissed the
babe gently.

"It is true, _Memere_," he answered, "and I thank _le bon Dieu_ for
his goodness to me."

But little Baptiste, lying wide awake for hours afterwards, was not
thankful. He could not see that matters could be much worse. A big
hard lump was in his throat as he thought of his father's hunger, and
the home-coming so different from what they had fondly counted on.
Great slow tears came into the boy's eyes, and he wiped them away,
ashamed even i