"Vas she de boss?" Bateese asked.

"Inside that little box cabin of hers she was."

"What about the obeyin' bizness, as the prayer book says?" enquired Hardman.

"Inside he did the obeying--outside, she did."

"By Gar, dat's about vat it should be!" exclaimed Bateese. "Now, my Emmiline she boss me inside alvays. She say, 'Bateese, you come here.' I come. 'You go dere.' I come too. She say, 'Bateese, vous garcon, vat you make dat splash on de floor?' I say, 'Pardonnez moi, mon ami,' She say, 'All right,' an' I don't make it no more. Den I go outside and make splash all over eff I want to."

"And do you want to?" said Hardman. For answer Bateese shrugged his shoulders.

"How is Emmiline tonight?" Mrs. Hardman asked. "I 'aven't seen her since morning.

"She be nice--but I stay 'most too long--she vant you to come and see her again right away."

"And how is the boy?"

"Fine! Oh, mon fils, he beeg bouncing garcon. Doctare say he weigh ten pound--an' he so goot he almost laff."

"Bateese, you're crazy."

"Veil! he open his eye and try to laugh--den--cause he can't, he cry."

And Bateese hurried off, after his long wait, to tell Emmiline that Mrs.

Hardman was coming.

One Sunday morning several weeks later, the Chaplain was waited on by Bateese. Breakfast was over, and having arranged his books and notes, he was putting on his surplice in preparation for the service he was about to hold in the barrack yard.

"Good morning, Bateese," said the Chaplain.

"Goot mornin', Padre," replied the habitant, pulling his forelock.

"What can I do for you?"

The exceeding gravity of Bateese's countenance made his mission very uncertain.

"Nothing wrong, I hope. Is Madame Bateese well?"

"Oui, oui, Padre."

"And that big bouncing boy of yours?"

"Yes, he tres bien, Monsieur."

"Well, my man, I'm glad to hear it. Tell me now what you want. You see I haven't much time to lose. The men are gathering for the service."

"Veil, Monsieur, it ess about de boy. Ve call him George after de Colonel, and Emil after me, and Emmiline want to have him baptize, vat you call christen."

"I'll be glad to do it, but you are too late for this service."

"Dat all right--we don't vant no service--ve vant it done all by hisself."

"But the Church does not baptize its children that way. They are done in the congregation before the people."

"But, Padre, me an' Emmiline goot Cat'liques. Ve no Engleese. Only no priest in de troop--and Emmiline go clean crazy if ve no get it done.

You know, Padre, ve loss our dear pet.i.te babees. Ve no vant to loss dis wan too."

"I see," said Mr. Evans. "You want me to christen the child privately."

"Yees, Padre."

"Well, bring him over to my quarters at three o'clock and I will do it then."

Bateese, while expressing his thanks for the Chaplain's kindness, still appeared nervous and stood twisting his hat as before.

"One more ting, Padre, Emmiline alvays goot Cat'lique. Alvays go to church, alvays count her beads at night. Vell she see de cure before she leave Kebec, and he say--if she ever have child again, an' leeve vere dere is no priest--she must burn holy candles and have holy vater--an'

den some minister of some oder church could baptize de boy all de sam."

"And have you got the candles and the holy water?" the Chaplain asked with a smile.

"Oh, yees--Emmiline bring everyting."

"So she got them from the priest six months ago and brought them with her to celebrate the christening."

"Oui, Padre, she did."

"She's a good woman," returned the clergyman, laughing heartily, "and although its against the rule to use holy water and candles at a christening, tell her I will do my best--and shall baptize the boy as well as any priest could do it in Quebec--and to please her I will use both."

A halo of light spread all over the little Frenchman's face, and happy as a king he hastened away to tell the good news to Emmiline.

So that Sunday afternoon was celebrated the first christening among the troops at Penetang. It was made memorable, too, in more ways than one, for at the request of Emmiline, Mrs. Manning acted as G.o.dmother, while in honor of its priority and from the fact that the child was named after himself, Sir George accepted the position as G.o.dfather; both of which events delighted not only the parents of the child but the whole garrison as well.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

The first summer at Penetang was full of new experiences for Helen. The feminine loneliness was very trying, and if it had not been that her hands and mind were always busy working and planning, she would have felt the solitude even more than she did. The summer was half gone before the first letters came; and the monotony of waiting was broken only twice afterwards before the season was over. Fortunately, however, they never came singly, and each bore reading again and again, before the succeeding budget arrived.

The absence of congenial companionship of her own s.e.x was what she felt most keenly. Still the presence of the little French woman, Emmiline, gave a break to the monotony. Her lively chatter whiled away many an hour; and with little Emil came new life; for Helen was deeply interested in the welfare of her little G.o.dson. Possibly, also, the best subst.i.tute for an absent friend may be the presence of that friend's lover; and as Maud Maxwell was the one who had expressed a desire to be with her in her western home, she longed for her the most.

After Dr. Beaumont made Helen his confidant, they had many long talks, and the more they talked the more she became convinced of his genuine devotion. One afternoon this was particularly impressed upon her. It was the day of the regular drill, and she was seated alone under an oak tree in front of her cottage, re-reading one of her letters. Everything was still around her, when being deeply absorbed, she was startled by the approach of footsteps.

"I beg your pardon, Madam!" exclaimed the Doctor. He had just returned with a string of ba.s.s from the bay. "I am sorry if I have disturbed you."

"Don't mention it," she replied with a smile. "Everything was so still.

Why, what a catch you have had!"