"He opened his eyes for the
slightest possible glance at
the broad black hat above him."
By the Good Sainte Anne
A STORY OF MODERN QUEBEC
BY
ANNA CHAPIN RAY
Author of “Teddy, Her Book,” “Phebe, Her Profession,”
“Ursula’s Freshman,” “Nathalie’s Chum,”
“The Dominant Strain,” etc.
Toronto
The Musson Book Co.
Limited
Copyright, 1904,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
All rights reserved
Published April, 1904
TO
S. M. P. M.
BRITISHER
IN TOKEN OF AMITY
By the Good Sainte Anne
CHAPTER ONE
Petulantly Nancy Howard cast asideher letter and buried her chin in hercupped palms.
“Oh, the woes of having a learned father!”she sighed. “Here is Joe’s letter, telling mehow everything is starting up at home; andhere am I, Nancy Howard, buried in thispicturesque, polyglot wilderness, just becausemy sire feels himself moved to take a vacationfrom medicine in order to study history atfirst hand! I wish he would let his stupidmonograph go to the winds, and take mehome in time for the Leighton’s dinner, nextweek.”
She picked up the scattered sheets of herletter and ran them over once more, holdingup her left hand, as she did so, to cut off thedazzling sunshine from the white paper. Itwas a pretty hand, slim, strong and tapering.Prettier still was her head, erect and crownedwith piles of reddish-brown hair. It was notwithout apparent reason that Nancy Howardhad been, for the past year, one of the mostpopular girls of her social circle at home.
At the third page, her brows wrinkledthoughtfully. Dropping the loose sheets intoher lap, she once more fell to musing aloud.
“It does seem to me that Joe is seeing agood deal of Persis Routh. I never thoughthe liked her especially well. But anyway Iam out of all the fun. Space isn’t the onlything that makes distance. Up here, I am atleast two hundred years away from home.How long have I been here? Eight, no, ninedays.” Suddenly she laughed. “At least, ithas been a period of fasting and meditation.I believe I’ll count it as a novena to the GoodSainte Anne. Perhaps she will manufacture amiracle in my behalf, and get up a little excitementfor me. Fancy an excitement in thisplace!”
“B’jour, mam’selle.”
Nancy turned alertly, as the voice broke inupon her musings.
“Bon jour, madame,” she answered, with apainstaking French which laid careful stressupon each silent letter and separated the wordsinto an equal number of distinct sentences.At present, it was her latest linguistic accomplishment,and she aired it with manifestpride.
Pausing midway over the stile, the oldwoman brushed her face with the apron thathung abov