New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1914-04-05

Madame Pilot, exclaimed Yvonnc, smiling and coiling
up the beautiful hair.
"Without doubt that is how it will have been as
scented the other. She drove her stout elbow nto the
ribs Of the woman who had whispered to her. Not 50
loud We people Of the coast have sharper ears than
you folks from inland.
"Whcn did he SAIL
Twenty years ago, when she was eighteen, ana all
that gray hair gold
"Pfuil There was a blast
1--WE shall have to pick the winds bones all the way
to Pampol. SO good day, Aladcmoisclc. Gaos, run
and bid Nlademoisellc Yvonnc good day
MADAME PILOT nudgcd the other woman again,
wi as much as to say. watch her with the child"
Gaos obclicnv quilted his mothers skirts and
Yvonnc knclt down to kiss him. She whispered IN the
chds ear coaxingly, and, he hesated watched the
innocent lips as though her fate in some ineXphcabe
way hung upon their uttcrance
"Shc always tries 20 get him to say 1t, and he never
will said Madame Pilot under her breath
~What," mouthcd the inland woman, with round IN
tcrcstcl eyes
The child spoke at that moment loudly and clearly,
"IIc will come back today.
Lord above, if ne hasn't said it," cried Madame
Pilot and crossed herself under her ample cloak as the
boy came running to her.
She caught his hand, and clattcrcd on in her heavy
woodcn shoes. fighting her way rcsoutcly against the
wind followed more slowly by the gaping nlandcr
"You rogue You little villain" She cried to the
child She dragged. What made YOU say it:
~Bc-bc-causc- bub bub -boo-bccausc it's true
reared Gaos, through angry sobs.
His mother, with a hasty invocation Of her patron
saint dropped his hand stopped where the beach path
way merged in the Paimpol road, and looked back.
Alademoiscc Yvonnc was nowhere to be seen at rst;
but presently her figure mounted into view climbing the
pathway 10 the chapel.
she has gone to burn candle for her good news
said Madame Pilot Now which have ! for a son,
= liar or a prophet If TO mistake ana
smack the prophet, its enough to bring judgment
down" She shook her head mourniully But 1t IS
70 be prayed for all the same that that great rogue
Yam may never come wheeling back. Drowned,
did Won suppose? Dead, Not bit Of it, Hes liv-
ing on the fat Of the land in Ploubazou, where he
landed his last cargo Of fish nineteen years ago. mar
ricd tavern keepers daughter, and set up sailors
drinking house himself: The Chinese Cider Cellars,
they call it. May Heaven punish such vagabonds.
painted Madame Pilot As for in Pors Lance, we re-
peace lovers and law ablcs; but there are stones and
,iIgcls waiting for Monsieur Yam Tregnicr whenever
Inc shows his there.
MADAME PILOT stopped, broad-shouldered
lNI Young man in a sailors cap and pilot cloth Jacket
came trampng toward her along the puddly Pampol
road whi,ting a cheerful tune. He wore thick. town
made brocs instead Of wooden >abos and saluted the
women in the country fashion, though to him personally
tbcwcrc unknown and passed by, leaving the mother OF
the possible prophet staring for he was known 10 he as
the son Of the Ploubazou tavern keeper Yam Ircgnier
christcncd lean Marie after his mothers father. lie
was well looking, sturdy young fellow OF eighteen,