WHEN THE BAYOU OVERFLOWS

When the sun goes down behind the great oaks along the Bayou
Teche near Franklin, it throws red needles of light into the dark
woods, and leaves a great glow on the still bayou. Ma'am Mouton
paused at her gate and cast a contemplative look at the red sky.

"Hit will rain to-morrow, sho'. I mus' git in my t'ings."

Ma'am Mouton's remark must have been addressed to herself or to
the lean dog, for no one else was visible. She moved briskly
about the yard, taking things from the line, when Louisette's
voice called cheerily:

"Ah, Ma'am Mouton, can I help?"

Louisette was petite and plump and black-haired. Louisette's
eyes danced, and her lips were red and tempting. Ma'am Mouton's
face relaxed as the small brown hands relieved hers of their
burden.

"Sylves', has he come yet?" asked the red mouth.

"Mais non, ma chere," said Ma'am Mouton, sadly, "I can' tell fo'
w'y he no come home soon dese day. Ah me, I feel lak' somet'ing
goin' happen. He so strange."

Even as she spoke a quick nervous step was heard crunching up the
brick walk. Sylves' paused an instant without the kitchen door,
his face turned to the setting sun. He was tall and slim and