A Lover in Homespun | Page 3

had risen
with alacrity, and in the hope that she would see the vacant seat by his
side, was unconsciously crushing the hapless farmer on his right into a
most uncomfortable position. The hopeful, expectant look on Vital's
face deserved far better recognition than it was awarded.
Despite the fact that there was but little room where Zotique was sitting,
the shameless, prevaricating fellow impressed upon her that seats in
that particular quarter were actually going begging.
For a few moments Katie hesitated as though she hardly knew what to
do. Absent-minded Vital was still standing and looking at her, his
whole heart in his eyes.
"Yes, I will sit next to you; it was very kind of you to take such interest
in getting me a seat."
Poor Vital! As he heard these ominous words, saw her look up and
smile at Zotique, and after great crushing sit down by his side, all the
pleasure of eating left him entirely.
As the good things began to disappear and tongues were loosened,
unobtrusive Vital seemed to be entirely forgotten, except by the
neighbor whom he had so cruelly crowded. Had it not been for this
kindly, unrevengeful soul, Vital's inner man would have been in as
beggarly a condition at the conclusion of the meal as at the beginning.
As it was, it received but scant attention. Seeing the poverty of his plate,
without asking leave, the farmer generously filled it.
This act of kindness brought Vital's thoughts to a sudden halt, and
made him feel ashamed of the interest he had been displaying in all the

young woman, seated at his brother's side, had been doing and saying.
With a firm determination no longer to slight his plate, he turned his
attention to it, but had scarcely eaten two mouthfuls when his
treacherous thoughts stole off to Katie again. Absently laying his knife
and fork down, he was soon unconscious of all that was going on
around him.
His friendly neighbor decided it would be a most opportune time to
pass the salt, and thus give him another hint that he was losing much
valuable time.
"Oh, thank you," said Vital, absently, as he took the salt and proceeded
to distribute it over his meat in such reckless quantities as to completely
entomb the latter. For a space the farmer looked aghast, and then, with
a mystified shake of his head, turned his attention to his own affairs,
and did not look at him again till the time for speech-making had
arrived. Then, to his consternation, he saw Vital had not made the
slightest effort to extricate the hapless meat from its strange covering.
Besides the farmer, another person had witnessed the adventures of
Vital's plate!
After considerable solicitation and stimulating applause, farmer Charest
rose to deliver the first speech. "As dare are," he began in broken
English, "a few farmer here who not spick de French lanwige, I will try
for spick a few words in Anglish. I know I not spick de lanwige vary
much, but my son Zotique, who just come from de States, he spick
Anglish just so well as de Anglish, and so he mak you spich better dan
I mak."
He turned and laid his hand affectionately on Zotique's head. Zotique
colored at the unexpected compliment, and looking down into Miss
Katie White's bright blue eyes, smiled, and shook his head
deprecatingly. She looked up, smiled, and nodded her compact little
head, as though she thought the compliment was fully deserved.
Vital, who had eyes for only one person in the room, saw the look
Zotique gave her, and her apparent appreciation of it, and longed to be
out in the little garden at the back of the house.

"I not mak some vary long spich," went on the orator, "as I know dat
you all rather have de dance. Den I see, too, dat my friend Magloire
Meloche, down dare, he look many time at de fiddle he brought and
hang on de wall." This bantering allusion to the veteran fiddle-player of
the district caused a hearty outburst of laughter and applause.
"All I want for say," continued the speaker, rubbing his hands briskly
with gratified pride, "is dat me and my femme we both glad dat my son
Zotique he come from de States to pay us de visit. My son he do well in
de States, where dare is vary much place for work. When he write to
say dat he pay us de visit, my femme, she say she mak dis little pleasure
so dat you all see him. My son Zotique he now spick."
Had farmer Charest been a second "Mark Antony," the recognition of
his oratorical ability could not have been more marked. Certain it is
that that renowned