Mr. Coristine promised to remember him, and
departed with his purchases, just as a voice, feminine but decided,
called to Mr. Bigglethorpe by name to come and hold the baby, while its
owner dished the dinner. "Talk about Hackles," said the lawyer to
himself on the way Inn-wards, "I imagine he has somebody in there that
can hackle him, long beard and all."
The dinner bell at the Maple was ringing vigorously. Monsieur Lajeunesse
had taken off his coat to ring it, and stood in the doorway in a flaming
red waistcoat, the companion of his tuque, over a spotlessly white
shirt, to let all who dwelt on the Beaver River know that the hour of
noon had arrived. The dinner, over which Madame presided, was excellent.
With the soup and the fish there was white wine, and good sound beer
with the entrees and solids. The schoolmaster spoke French to the
hostess, chiefly about the book he had been reading, and the lawyer
discussed fishing with Pierre, who constantly referred to his great
authority, Meestare Bulky. Madame, charmed that her guest could converse
with her in her mother tongue, generously filled his glasses, and
provided his plates with the most seductive morsels.
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