e, and the large table standing in
the middle of the floor had a hospitable look heightened by the savory
smells which at that day seemed to offend no one.

The farms all lay without and stretched down the river and westward. The
population outside had increased much faster, for there was room to
grow. There were little settlements of French, others of half-breeds,
and not a few Indian wigwams. The squaws loved to shelter themselves
under the wing of the Fort and the whites. Business of all kinds had
increased since the coming of the English.

But now there had occurred another overturn. Detroit had been an
important post during the Revolution, and though General Washington,
Jefferson, and Clark had planned expeditions for its attack, it was, at
the last, a bloodless capture, being included in the boundaries named in
the Quebec Act. But the British counted on recapture, and the Indians
were elated with false hopes until the splendid victories of General
Wayne in northern Illinois against both Indians and English. By his
eloquence and the announcement of the kindly intentions of the United
States, the Chippewa nation made gifts of large tracts of land and
relinquished all claims to Detroit and Mackinaw.

The States had now two rather disaffected peoples. Many of the English
prepared to return to Canada with the military companies. The French had
grown accustomed to the rule and still believed in kings and state and
various titles. But the majority of the poor scarcely cared, and would
have grumbled at any rule.

For weeks Detroit was in a ferment with the moving out. There were
sorrowful farewells. Many a damsel missed the lover to whom she had
pinned her faith, many an irregular marriage was abruptly terminated.
The good Recollet fathers had tried to impress the sacredness of family
ties upon their flock, but since the coming of the English, the liberty
allowed every one, and the Protestant form of worship, there had grown a
certain laxness even in the town.

"It is going to be a great day!" declared Jeanne, as she sprang out of
her little pallet. There were two beds in the room, a great, high-post
carved bedstead of the Bellestre grandeur, and the cot Jacques Pallent,
the carpenter, had made, which was four sawed posts, with a frame nailed
to the top of them. It was placed in the corner, and so, out of sight,
Pani felt that her charge was always safe. In the morning Jeanne
generally turned a somersault that took h