It was a beautiful day at the latter end of March when Narcisse and Charlie, with their winter's earnings in their pockets, left camp and happily trudged off to the railway station, four miles away. They had agreed to spend a month at St. John's, where Narcisse lived, before going out to the North-West for the summer. Charlie had suggested that they should go out west at once, but Narcisse somehow never took kindly to the proposition, and had offered several excuses for not hurrying away that seemed to Charlie to be a little hazy and certainly not very weighty. One reason Narcisse dwelt upon for not going was the good fishing there was at St. John's. Prior to this suggestion Narcisse had never mentioned fishing; consequently the sudden outbreak of this new passion in his friend provided Charlie, on more than one occasion, with ample food for reflection.
Town life was wonderfully bright and attractive to them after the long quiet of the woods. Narcisse knew many people in the pretty little town, and wherever he went Charlie was always sure to be seen. Rev. Father Pelletiere, the parish priest, who had christened Narcisse and buried his parents, called the young men David and Jonathan. The reverend father was a man thoroughly opposed to race prejudices, and there could be no doubt but that the friendship between the two young men had entirely bridged the artificial barriers so often raised between men of different races and creeds.
The very day they arrived in town, Narcisse, in an off-hand manner, told Charlie that they would go and call at a cottage that he had occasionally visited before he went to the woods. There was something in the tone in which Narcisse said this that gave Charlie the impression that the house must be one of more than ordinary size and importance. The more than usual time that Narcisse took in dressing that day increased this impression. When finally, after wandering down a series of little streets, Narcisse stopped at a small whitewashed cottage with a slanting roof, and knocked at the door with a certain amount of nervousness, Charlie's astonishment fairly overcame him, and he was just going to ask Narcisse if he had not made a mistake in the house, when the door opened. Then he was sure Narcisse had not made a mistake. Never had he seen a more attractive girlish face. Her eyes were deep blue, and were tenanted with such a merry, roguish gleam, that Charlie's hitherto well-regulated heart beat in a most unruly manner when she fixed her eyes upon his. Her brown, round, vivacious face took on a deeper hue, as Narcisse eagerly shook hands with her and introduced her to Charlie. "Jessie Cunningham is a very pretty name," mused Charlie, as they followed her into the quaint little kitchen, in the middle of which glowed an old-fashioned wood-burner.
