their deeds are bitter. You will cry for me, but they will not even
soothe you. Stay with me, my little one! Your brother Dawée says that
going East, away from your mother, is too hard an experience for his
baby sister."

Thus my mother discouraged my curiosity about the lands beyond our
eastern horizon; for it was not yet an ambition for Letters that was
stirring me. But on the following day the missionaries did come to our
very house. I spied them coming up the footpath leading to our cottage.
A third man was with them, but he was not my brother Dawée. It was
another, a young interpreter, a paleface who had a smattering of the
Indian language. I was ready to run out to meet them, but I did not dare
to displease my mother. With great glee, I jumped up and down on our
ground floor. I begged my mother to open the door, that they would be
sure to come to us. Alas! They came, they saw, and they conquered!

Judéwin had told me of the great tree where grew red, red apples; and
how we could reach out our hands and pick all the red apples we could
eat. I had never seen apple trees. I had never tasted more than a dozen
red apples in my life; and when I heard of the orchards of the East, I
was eager to roam among them. The missionaries smiled into my eyes and
patted my head. I wondered how mother could say such hard words against
him.

"Mother, ask them if little girls may have all the red apples they want,
when they go East," I whispered aloud, in my excitement.

The interpreter heard me, and answered: "Yes, little girl, the nice red
apples are for those who pick them; and you will have a ride on the iron
horse if you go with these good people."