w dwelling houses, a moat with
a drawbridge, and the space of land running down to the river divided
into gardens. The Sieur de Champlain found time to sow various seeds,
wheat and rye as well, to set out berries brought from the woods and
native grape vines that were better fitted to withstand the rigorous
climate. But now it was simply magnificent, glowing with the early
autumn suns.

"I have a good neighbor who takes a great interest in these things. You
must inspect Mere Dubray's garden. With a dozen emigrants like her we
should have the wilderness abloom. She rivals Hebert. We must have some
agriculture. We cannot depend on the mother country for all our food.
And if the Indians can raise corn and other needful supplies, why not
we?"

"Ah, ha! little truant!" cried Mere Dubray, with a sharp glance at the
child, "where hast thou been all the afternoon, while weeds have been
growing apace?"

"She has been playing guide to a stranger," explained Destournier, "and
I have found her most interesting. It has been time well spent."

Mere Dubray smiled. She always felt honored by the encomiums of M. de
Champlain. She was proud of her garden, as well, and pleased to have
visitors inspect it. Indeed the young man thought he had seen no neater
gardens in sunny France.

"Mere Dubray," he said, "convert this young man into an emigrant. I am a
little sorry to have him begin in the autumn when the summer is so much
more enticing. But if the worst is taken first there is hope for better
to cheer the heart."

Something about her brought to mind the women of old France who sturdily
fought their way to a certain prosperity. She was rather short and
stout, but with no loosely-hanging flesh, her hair was still coal-black,
with a sharp sort of waviness, and her eyes had the sparkle of beads.
Her brown skin was relieved by a warm color in the cheeks and the red,
rather smiling lips. No one could imagine the child hers. It was nothing
to him, yet he felt rather glad.

Destournier was very friendly, however, and found her really
intelligent. The little girl ran hither and thither, quite a privileged
character. There were very few children beyond the Indians and
half-breeds. The fur-hunters often went through a sort of ceremony with
the Indian girls during their weeks of dickering with the traders. Some
returned another season to renew their vows, others sought new loves.

"I suppose the child has some sort of story?" he said to Ch