agile; a true 'cajan.

"Bon jour, Louisette," he laughed. "Eh, maman!"

"Ah, my son, you are ver' late."

Sylves' frowned, but said nothing. It was a silent supper that
followed. Louisette was sad, Ma'am Mouton sighed now and then,
Sylves' was constrained.

"Maman," he said at length, "I am goin' away."

Ma'am Mouton dropped her fork and stared at him with unseeing
eyes; then, as she comprehended his remark, she put her hand out
to him with a pitiful gesture.

"Sylves'!" cried Louisette, springing to her feet.

"Maman, don't, don't!" he said weakly; then gathering strength
from the silence, he burst forth:

"Yaas, I 'm goin' away to work. I 'm tired of dis, jus' dig,
dig, work in de fiel', nothin' to see but de cloud, de tree, de
bayou. I don't lak' New Orleans; it too near here, dere no mo'
money dere. I go up fo' Mardi Gras, an' de same people, de same
strit'. I'm goin' to Chicago!"

"Sylves'!" screamed both women at once.

Chicago! That vast, far-off city that seemed in another world.