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Chapter 9
Grandma Bisnette came from Canada to work for the Browers. She
was a big, cheerful woman, with a dialect, an amiable disposition
and a swarthy, wrinkled face. She had a loose front tooth that
occupied all the leisure of her tongue. When she sat at her knitting
this big tooth clicked incessantly. On every stitch her tongue went
in and out across it' and I, standing often by her knees, regarded the
process with great curiosity.
The reader may gather much from these frank and informing
words of Grandma Bisnette. 'When I los' my man, Mon Dieu! I
have two son. An' when I come across I bring him with me. Abe he
rough; but den he no bad man.'
Abe was the butcher of the neighbourhood - that red-handed,
stony-hearted, necessary man whom the Yankee farmer in that
north country hires to do the cruel things that have to be done. He
wore ragged, dirty clothes and had a voice like a steam whistle.
His rough, black hair fell low and mingled with his scanty beard.
His hands were stained too often with the blood of some creature
we loved.


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