never told of the religious persecutions to the little girl. He had a soft winsome sort of voice, and often lapsed into French idioms, but she was always charmed with it, even if she could not understand all he said. Presently she went fast asleep.
Then the darkness began to fall. The candles were lighted, and that roused both sleepers. There was a savory smell of supper, even Judy went around sniffing.
"We won't wait any longer," gran'mere said, with a little impatience. She had been cooking some messes that she remembered her son-in-law was very fond of, and she was disappointed that he was not here to enjoy it.
After that grandfather went to bed. Dilly was wide awake and held her cat, telling her a wonderful tale of a beautiful woman who had been turned into a cat by an ugly witch, and all the adventures she could remember. Judy purred very loudly now and then.
"Don't you want to go to bed?" asked Mrs. Carrick.
"Oh, I'm not a bit sleepy." Then, after a pause, "Will father stay at grandad's?"
"Oh, no. He is with the men at the Fort."
"But grandad took him away."
"Oh, they all want to see him."
"Doesn't he belong to us?"
"Yes, dear. But they always make a time when one comes home from the war."
"What queer things there are in the flames," the child went on. "I think they fight, too. Look at that long blue streak. Just as soon as the little red ones come out, he swallows them up. Then he sits and waits for some more, just as Judy does for a mouse. It's funny!"
"There, I've spun out all my flax. Now let us both come to bed."
There was a sound of voices outside. Then the door was flung open, and Bernard Carrick entered, with a rather noisy greeting, catching his wife in his arms, and kissing her vehemently. Then he clasped his arms about Dilly, and threw her up, she was so small and light. She stretched out her hands to her mother.
"Don't, Bernard; you frighten the child. We have been waiting for you to come home. And now Dilly must go to bed."
She took her little girl by the hand. Bernard dropped in the big chair.
Barbe seldom undressed her now, but she did this night. Presently Daffodil said in an imperious tone, "Do you like my father? I don't. I like grandfather, and gran, and grandad sometimes, but not always. And – father – "
"Hush, dear. You will come to like him very much, I know, for I love him dearly. Now, say your little prayer and go to bed."
Barbe went out, poked the fire a little, put on another log, and then sat down by her husband, who had fallen into a heavy sleep. Had he given the country something more than his service these three years – his manhood, the tender and upright qualities that dominated him when he went away? Sandy Carrick was of the old school, strong and stalwart, and not easily overcome, although he could not be called dissipated in any sense. But Bernard had never been of the roystering kind. She prayed from the depths of her heart that he might be made aware of the danger. The fire dropped down again, and she roused with a sudden shiver, rising and looking intently at him. The flush was gone, he was pale and thin again. Then he opened his eyes and saw her standing there. After a moment he held out both hands, and clasped hers.
"Forgive me, Barbe," he said. "I ought not have come home to you like that, but they are a wild lot and I hadn't the strength to stand it after the months of privations. Zounds! what a head my father has! I haven't been indulging in such junkets. I wanted to come home alive to you and the little one. But I couldn't get away without offence and one goes farther than one can bear. Don't think I brought the detestable habit home with me, though many a poor fellow does yield to it and you can't blame them so much, either."
"No," she answered softly, and kissed him on the forehead, much relieved at his frankness. Then as an afterthought – "I hope you didn't quarrel with anybody."
"Oh, no. Party spirit runs high. A man who has never seen anything beyond an Indian skirmish thinks he could set the country on its feet by any wild plan. And here we have so many shades of opinion. Father's amuse me; I wonder how he and great-grandfather keep such amicable friends!"
"Oh, he has no one nearby to play a game of piquet with him. And the Duvernay temper is much milder. But you must be tired. Let us fix the fire for the night."
"Tell me when I have it right. I am not quite sure, though I have looked after many a camp fire. And now I am here to ease you up somewhat, and look out for you. Your father has been very good through these troublous times, and I will see that he need not be ashamed of his son."
"Oh," she cried with deep emotion, "you make me very happy. So much of our lives are yet to come."
There followed several pleasant days. The snow ran off and another came and vanished.
There was little doing. Some people had looms in their houses and were weaving goods of various rather common kinds and many of the women were kept busy spinning thread and woolen yarns for cloth. Money was scarce, most of the trade was carried on by barter.
"It has the making of a magnificent city," Bernard Carrick said, surveying its many fine points. "From here you will go straight over to the Mississippi. Some day we shall have both sides. What have the French been about to let such a splendid opportunity slip through their hands."
"Don't stir up a hornet's nest at home," counseled the elder Carrick.
"Oh, you mean great-grandfather! He sees the mistakes and shortsightedness, and while he would have been proud enough to live here under French rule, he understands some aspects at the old home better than we, the extravagance of the Court, the corruption of society, and," laughing, "he is hardly as hot for France as you are for England. After all, what so much has been done for you or Scotland or Ireland for that matter?"
"This will be fought all over again. You will see. The country will be broken up into little provinces. Yankee and Virginian will never agree; Catholic and Puritan are bound to fight each other."
"Hardly! They fought together for the great cause and they'll hardly turn their swords on each other. I've been from New York to Yorktown. And now the great work is for every man to improve his own holding, his own town."
Pittsburg then had enjoyed or hated successive rulers. Great Britain, then France, Great Britain again, Virginia and Pennsylvania. It had been a strategic point worth holding, but no one then had dreamed of its later renown.
Bernard Carrick did not seem to make much headway with his little daughter. She had been startled with his rudeness, though he was gentle enough now. But what with her mother, grandad, and Norah, who was the most charming of stepmothers, she felt he had enough care and attention. She was not going to sue for any favors.
"Daffodil," he said one pleasant day when they had been rambling round the old Block House, not so very old then, though it could count on over twenty years, "Daffodil, why can't you love me as well as you love great-grandfather. I think you scarcely love me at all."
She kicked some gravelly stones out of her path and looked over the river. It was all so beautiful then, no smoke to obscure it anywhere.
"They all love you, they're always wanting you. Grandad doesn't care for me any more. And he wasn't a bit glad when the news came. He went in the house saying it was a 'lee' and Norry said the black cat was on his back. It wasn't a real cat, but like those in the stories. And he stayed there all day. And he wouldn't believe you were coming home
