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Mama asked me with surprise. She knew how expert I
was at poling a pirogue.
"No, Mama. I hit a rock while we were in the
small pirogue and I fell out."
She was nonplussed for a moment, her eyes
shifting from Pierre to me.
"Go change," she ordered me. She turned back
to Pierre. "I have some clean, dry clothes for you to
put on, monsieur. One moment."
"Please, don't go to any trouble," Pierre said,
but Mama was already off to fetch the clothing. Pierre
gazed at me and shrugged.
"Gabriel!" Mama called from the stairway. "Coming, Mama." I hurried up behind her. "How did such a thing happen, Gabriel?" she
demanded in a loud whisper.
"Just the way he described, Mama. I wasn't
paying attention and I poled us right into a rock. I lost
balance and fell overboard."
"How did he get soaked, too?"
"He jumped in to help me."
"He jumped in?"
"Oui, Mama."
She stared at me a moment and then shook her
head. "Change your clothes," she said.
By the time I came downstairs, Mama had
Pierre dressed in Daddy's best pair of slacks and one
of his best shirts. He was barefoot while Mama dried
his shoes and socks, pants and shirt, on the stove. His
underpants were hanging on the line in the sun. He
looked up at me from the plank table in the kitchen.
He had an impish grin and appeared to be positively
