ay.
Fanny followed with a freedom of movement quite unlike that of her
coming.

Morico went into the house and coming back hastily to the door called
to Jocint:

"Bring back that flask of whisky that you took off the table."

"You're a liar: you know I have no use for whisky. That's one of your
damned tricks to make me buy you more." And he seated himself on an
over-turned tub and with his small black eyes half closed, looked
moodily out into the solemn darkening woods. The old man showed no
resentment at the harshness and disrespect of his son's speech, being
evidently used to such. He passed his hand slowly over his white long
hair and turned bewildered into the house.

"Is it just this same old thing year in and year out, Gregoire? Don't
any one ever get up a dance, or a card party or anything?"

"Jus' as you say; the same old thing f'om one yea's en' to the otha. I
used to think it was putty lonesome myse'f w'en I firs' come yere.
Then you see they's no neighbo's right roun' yere. In Natchitoches
now; that's the place to have a right down good time. But see yere; I
didn' know you was fon' o' dancin' an' such things."

"Why, of course, I just dearly love to dance. But it's as much as my
life's worth to say that before David; he's such a stick; but I guess
you know that by this time," with a laugh, as he had never heard from
her before--so unconstrained; at the same time drawing nearer to him
and looking merrily into his face.

"The little lady's been having a 'toddy' at Morico's, that makes her
lively," thought Gregoire. But the knowledge did not abash him in the
least. He accommodated himself at once to the situation with that
adaptability common to the American youth, whether of the South,
North, East or West.

"Where abouts did you leave David when you come away?" she asked with
a studied indifference.

"Hol' on there, Buckskin--w'ere you takin' us? W'y, I lef' him at the
sto' mailin' lettas."

"Had the others all got back? Mrs. Laferm? Melicent? did they all stop
at the store, too?"

"Who? Aunt Threrese? no, she was up at the house w'en I lef'--I reckon
Miss Melicent was there too. Talkin' 'bout fun,--it's to git into one
o' them big spring wagons on a moonlight night, like they do in
Centaville sometimes; jus' packed down with young folks--and start out
fur a dance up the coast. They ain't nothin' to beat it as fah as fun
goes."

"It must be just jolly. I guess you're a pretty good dancer,
Greg