work. Many were the Creole boys who had gone to Chicago to earn
a living, for the cigar-making trade flourishes there
wonderfully. Friends of Sylves' had gone, and written home
glowing accounts of the money to be had almost for the asking.
When one's blood leaps for new scenes, new adventures, and one
needs money, what is the use of frittering away time alternately
between the Bayou Teche and New Orleans? Sylves' had brooded all
summer, and now that September had come, he was determined to go.

Louisette, the orphan, the girl-lover, whom everyone in Franklin
knew would some day be Ma'am Mouton's daughter-in-law, wept and
pleaded in vain. Sylves' kissed her quivering lips.

"Ma chere," he would say, "t'ink, I will bring you one fine
diamon' ring, nex' spring, when de bayou overflows again."

Louisette would fain be content with this promise. As for Ma'am
Mouton, she seemed to have grown ages older. Her Sylves' was
going from her; Sylves', whose trips to New Orleans had been a
yearly source of heart-break, was going far away for months to
that mistily wicked city, a thousand miles away.

October came, and Sylves' had gone. Ma'am Mouton had kept up
bravely until the last, when with one final cry she extended her
arms to the pitiless train bearing him northward. Then she and
Louisette went home drearily, the one leaning upon the other.

Ah, that was a great day when the first letter came from Chicago!

Louisette came running in breathlessly from the post-office, and