"Well, Noël, my son, what did you get this time? I trust a great
quantity."

"Yes, my mother, we did very well. The first day we captured a fine
porpoise, and after that six large seals."

"Ah! that was good," replied madame.

Both mother and son spoke French in the Lower Canadian _patois_, rather
puzzling to English ears trained to understand only Parisian French. For,
not only is the pronunciation different, but several Scotch words are
used by the inhabitants of this district, and one puzzles hopelessly over
their derivation, until remembering the origin of the people.

"Where did you leave your boat?" questioned madame.

"At Father Point light-house with Jean Gourdon. He is to drive up with the
pilot to-morrow, and by that time will have skinned the seals."

"Surely the steamer is late this week?"

"Yes, but she will pass Father Point early to-morrow morning; she was
telegraphed from Matane, where there has been a dense fog."

"I am glad, Noël, you had such good luck this time."

"Yes, the porpoise will keep us in oil all winter, and as for the
seal-skins, I can sell them at Quebec for a good round price. So far so
good. But this is the first stroke of luck this year. It has been a poor
season. Have you any news, my mother?"