t,"
said Mrs. Martin, a little disconcerted.

"If she marries and goes away from home, there will only be one
thing for her father to do, and that will be to marry again,"
remarked Miss Le Grove, who found the state of forced celibacy
unendurable.

The others looked at each other. Some could not force back the smile
that rushed to their lips. Miss Le Grove noticed the suppressed
mirth and blushed. Then losing her presence of mind, and wishing to
explain the why and wherefore of her face being so red, she said,
slightly retiring: "Isn't the weather warm."

There was a hoar-frost.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, an accident occurred, while Miss Le
Grove was backing her voluminous self, which sufficed to disperse
the assemblage.

A little boy was standing with his back to the obese woman. He was
busily engaged, endeavouring to count the stars, when that most
worthy spinster backed against him and sent him sprawling. She did
not even feel the rencontre; it was like an iron-clad coming in
collision with a fishing-smack.

The little parish school-boy was none the less irritated. He planted
himself before Miss Le Grove, to make sure she would see him, made a
frightful grimace and shouted: "You're an old half-a-ton." Then he
decamped.

The other ladies giggled.

The company dispersed.

A group of youths who were standing near shouted "Well said,
_gamin_."

Going home, the topic of the conversation was Miss Le Grove,
garnished with a sprinkling of Mr. Rougeant.

As for the lady whom the little rogue had styled "half-a-ton" she
walked alone muttering execrations against this "little wretch," and
telling herself that there were no Christians, that these women
laughed at her, because she chose to remain what Providence had
directed she should be, and that Mr. Rougeant was perfectly right in
keeping away from people, who had nothing to do when they came out
of church but to backbite their neighbours.

In future, she too would shun these sophisticated people.

And--puffing and blowing; gesticulating and perspiring;
soliloquizing and threatening, she retook possession of her home,
sweet home.

CHAPTER XXV.

LOVE TRIUMPHS.

"Good-morning, Mr. Rougeant," said Jacques on the Monday morning, as
he perceived his employer walking about the farmyard.

"Good-morning, Jacques," responded the farmer.

"Your foot is better then?" said the workman, eager to commence the
conversation, for Mr. Rougeant was alread