“Telesphore,” directed the father, “make us a smudge.  Take the old tin pail.”  Telesphore covered the bottom of the leaky vessel with earth, filling it then with dry chips and twigs which he set ablaze.  When the flame was leaping up brightly he returned with an armful of herbs and leaves and smothered it; the volume of stinging smoke which ascended was carried by the wind into the house and drove out the countless horde.  At length they were at peace, and with sighs of relief could desist from the warfare.  The very last mosquito settled on the face of little Alma Rose.  With great seriousness she pronounced the ritual words-"Fly, fly, get off my face, my nose is not a public place!” Then she made a swift end of the creature with a slap.  The smoke drifted obliquely through the door-way; within the house, no longer stirred by the breeze, it spread in a thin cloud; the walls became indistinct and far-off; the group seated between door and stove resolved into a circle of dim faces hanging in a white haze.

“Greetings to everyone!” The tones rang clear, and Francois Paradis, emerging from the smoke, stood upon the threshold.  For weeks Maria had been expecting him.  Half an hour earlier the sound of a step without had sent the blood to her cheek, and yet the arrival of him she awaited moved her with joyous surprise.

“Offer your chair, Da’Be!” cried mother Chapdelaine.  Four callers from three different quarters converging upon her, truly nothing more was needed to fill her with delightful excitement.  An evening indeed to be remembered!

“There!  You are forever saying that we are buried in the woods and see no company,” triumphed her husband.  “Count them over:  eleven grown-up people!” Every chair in the house was filled; Esdras, Tit’Be and Eutrope Gagnon occupied the bench, Chapdelaine, a box turned upside down; from the step Telesphore and Alma Rose watched the mounting smoke.

“And look,” said Ephrem Surprenant, “how many young fellows and only one girl!” The young men were duly counted:  three Chapdelaines, Eutrope Gagnon, Lorenzo Surprenant, Francois Paradis.  As for the one girl ...  Every eye was turned upon Maria, who smiled feebly and looked down, confused.

“Had you a good trip, Francois?-He went up the river with strangers to buy furs from the Indians,” explained Chapdelaine; who presented to the others with formality-"Francois Paradis, son of Francois Paradis from St. Michel de Mistassini.”  Eutrope Gagnon knew him by name, Ephrem Surprenant had met his father:—­“A tall mall, taller still than he, of a strength not to be matched.” it only remained to account for Lorenzo Surprenant,-"who has come, home from the States"-and all the conventions had been honoured.