They are making ready to enjoy themselves down at the river house." "Ah, the poor souls!" sighed Father Beret, speaking as one whose thoughts were wandering far away.
"Why don't you read your letter, Father ?" Rene added.
The priest started, turned the soiled square of paper over in his hand, then thrust it inside his robe.
"It can wait," he said.

Then, changing his voice; "the squirrels you gave me were excellent, my son.

It was good of you to think of me," he added, laying his hand on Rene's arm.
"Oh, I'm glad if I have pleased you, Father Beret, for you are so kind to me always, and to everybody.

When I killed the squirrels I said to myself: 'These are young, juicy and tender, Father Beret must have these,' so I brought them along." The young man rose to go; for he was somehow impressed that Father Beret must wish opportunity to read his letter, and would prefer to be left alone with it.

But the priest pulled him down again.
"Stay a while," he said, "I have not had a talk with you for some time." Rene looked a trifle uneasy.
"You will not drink any to-night, my son," Father Beret added.