I'll tell her--" He reached out, picked a wild rose from the vine upon the wall, and fastened it in his button-hole, with a defiant sort of smile, as there came a tap to his door.

"Come in," he said.
The door opened, and in stepped Shangois, the notary.

He carried a jug under his arm, which, with a nod, he set down at the foot of the bed.
"M'sieu'," said he, "it is a thing that cured the bishop; and once, when a prince of France was at Quebec, and had a bad cold, it cured him.

The whiskey in it I made myself--very good white wine." Ferrol looked at the little man curiously.

He had only spoken with him once or twice, but he had heard the numberless legends about him, and the Cure had told him many of his sayings, a little weird and sometimes maliciously true to the facts of life.
Ferrol thanked the little man, and motioned to a chair.