recently announced herself heir to a legacy and indifferent to trade, we should better have comprehended the stir of draperies, the whispered peering of heads at neighbouring panes. Better have understood, also, the reluctant flap and shuffle of slippered feet which preceded the narrow gaping of the door, and the curt "Eh Bien?" which was our greeting.
"We seek breakfast, Madame," with caution, noting the chill of the appraising eye.
"Seulement déjeuner?" from lips that were keen as the glance.
One could not be sure . . . if the terms were right—
Whereat the green door snapped shut.
No more decisively, however, than another that had been waiting flew open. "Over here if you please," summoned a voice so compelling that over there we went to engage a chamber which resembled the best room in any French cottage from its gold wedding clock to its wedding four-poster. The furnishings, so it was volubly disclosed, had to the very image of Saint Mary been brought across the sea in a Brittany sailboat. In the same way is still conveyed much that the good people of Miquelon wear, eat and use.
During the fortnight we spent as guests of Madame Miller we slept, as in rural France, upon and beneath a ticking of down, and were wakened each
