Part 57 (1/2)
”_Monsieur le cure_,” she said, disconsolately, rising and coming towards him, ”you must not think me too wicked.”
”Mademoiselle, you do not do yourself justice,” he said, gravely.
Bidiane's eyes wandered to the spots of moisture on his ca.s.sock. ”I wish that rum had been in the Bay,” she said; ”yet, _monsieur le cure_, Mr.
Greening is a very bad man.”
”Charity, charity, mademoiselle. We all speak hastily at times. Shall I tell you what I think of you?”
”Yes, yes, _monsieur le cure_, if you please.”
”I think that you have a good heart, but a hasty judgment. You will, like many others, grow wise as you grow older, yet, mademoiselle, we do not wish you to lose that good heart. Do you not think that Mr. Greening has had his lesson?”
”Yes, I do.”
”Then, mademoiselle, you will cease wearying yourself with--with--”
”With unwomanly exertions against him,” said Bidiane, with a quivering lip and a laughing eye.
”Hardly that,--but you are vexing yourself unnecessarily.”
”Don't you think that my good cousin here ought to go to Parliament?”
she asked, wistfully.
Father Duvair laughed outright, refused to commit himself, and went slowly away.
”I like him,” said Bidiane, as she watched him out of sight, ”he is so even-tempered, and he never scolds his flock as some clergymen do. Just to think of his going down into that cellar and letting all that liquor run out. His boots were quite wet, and did you notice the splashes on his nice black ca.s.sock?”
”Yes; who will get the fifty dollars?”
”Dear me, I forgot all about it. I have known a good deal of money to go into my aunt's big pocket, but very little comes out. Just excuse me for a minute,--I may get it if I pounce upon her at once.”
Bidiane ran to the house, from whence issued immediately after a lively sound of squealing. In a few minutes she appeared in the doorway, cramming something in her pocket and looking over her shoulder at her aunt, who stood slapping her sides and vowing that she had been robbed.
”I have it all but five dollars,” said the girl, breathlessly. ”The dear old thing was stuffing it into her stocking for Mr. Nimmo. 'You sha'n't rob Peter to pay Paul,' I said, and I s.n.a.t.c.hed it away from her. Then she squealed like a pig, and ran after me.”
”You will give this to Claudine?”
”I don't know. I think I'll have to divide it. We had to give that maledicted Jean Drague three dollars for his vote. That was my money.”
”Where did you see Jean Drague?”
”I went to his house. Some one told me that the Conservative candidate had called, and had laid seven dollars on the mantelpiece. I also called, and there were the seven dollars, so I took them up, and laid down ten instead.”
Agapit did not speak, but contented himself with twisting the ends of his mustache in a vigorous manner.
”And the worst of it is that we are not sure of him now,” she said, drearily. ”I wonder what Mr. Nimmo would say if he knew how I have been acting?”
”I have been wondering, myself.”