Le Petit Nord | Page 7

row of Mission staff drawn up
in solemn array to greet us. As the doctor-in-charge stepped forward
and with a bland smile hoped I had had a "comfortable journey," and
bade me welcome to St. Antoine, with a prodigious effort I contorted
my features into something resembling a grin, and limply shook his
outstretched hand. To-morrow I mean to make enquiries about retiring
pensions for Mission workers!
No one had much sympathy with me over the loss of my trunk. They
laughed and said I would be fortunate if it appeared by the end of the
summer. You had better send me a box by freight with some clothing in
it; I otherwise shall have to live in bed, or seek admission to hospital as

a "chronic."
How perfectly dear of you to have a letter awaiting me at the
Orphanage. Regardless of manners I fell to and devoured it, while all
the "little oysters stood and waited in a row." Like the walrus, with a
few becoming words I introduced myself as their future guardian, but
never a word said they. As, led by a diminutive maid, I passed from
their gaze I heard an awe-struck whisper, "IT'S gone upstairs!"
[Illustration: THE HERRING OF HIGH ESTATE]
In answer to my questions the little maid informed me that the last
mistress had left by the boat I had just missed, and that since then the
children had been in her charge, with such help and supervision as the
various members of the Mission staff could give. I therefore felt it was
"up to me" to make a start, and I delicately enquired when the next
meal was due. An exhaustive exploration of the larder revealed two
herrings, one undoubtedly of very high estate. As the children looked
fairly plump, I concluded that they had only been on such meagre diet
since the departure of the last "mistress." The barrenness of the larder
suggested a fruitful topic of conversation with which to win the
confidence of these staring, open-mouthed children, and I therefore
tenderly asked what they would most like to eat, supposing IT were
there. One and all affirmed that "swile" meat was a delicacy such as
their souls loved--and repeated questions could elucidate no further.
Subsequently, on making enquiries of one of the Mission staff, I
thought I detected a look which led me to suppose that I had not yet
acquired the correct pronunciation of the word. We dined off the
herring of lowly origin, and consigned the other to the garbage pail.
Nerve as well as skill, I can assure you, is required to divide one
herring into thirty-six equal parts. There is no occasion for alarm. I
have not the slightest intention of starving these infants. To-morrow I
go on a foraging expedition to the Mission commissariat department
(there must be one somewhere), and then the fat years shall succeed the
lean ones.
To-night I am too tired to do more, and there is a quite absurd longing
to see some one's face again. The coming year looks very long and very

dreary, and although I know I shall grow to love these children, yet, oh,
I wish they did not stare so when one has to blink so hard to keep the
tears from falling.

July 7
Morning! And the children may stare all they like. I no longer need to
repress youthful emotions. All the same it is a trifle disconcerting. I had
chosen, as I thought, a very impressive portion of Scripture for Prayers,
and the children were as quiet as mice. But they never let their eyes
wander from me for a single moment, until I began to feel I ought at
least to have a smut on the tip of my nose.
The alluring advertisement of Newfoundland, as "the coolest country
on the Atlantic seaboard in the summer," is all too painfully true. It is
very, very cold at present, and the sun, if sun there be, is safely
ensconced behind an impenetrable bank of fog. If this is summer
weather, what will the winter be!
I started to write this to you in the morning, but the day has been one
long series of interruptions. The work is all new to me and not exactly
what I expected, but the spice of variety is not lacking. I find it very
hard to understand these children and it is evident from their faces that
they fail to comprehend my meaning. Yet I have a lurking suspicion
that when it is an order to be obeyed, their desire to understand is not
overwhelming. The children are supposed to do the work of the Home
under my superintendency, the girls undertaking the housework and the
boys the outside "chores." Apparently from all I hear