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.

On the long deal table, just behind the stove, were several loaves, which evidently had just been taken out of the oven.  Jessie’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and her well-rounded arms were covered with flour.  She blushed and gave a nervous little laugh, as she hurriedly pulled down her sleeves and explained that she had been baking.  Both Narcisse and Charlie hurried over to where the tempting, warm, browned loaves were, and, after hurriedly glancing at them, looked at each other in open-eyed wonder, and declared that never in their lives had they seen finer loaves.  After that all awkwardness was swept away, and Jessie would not be content until they both accepted a generous slice of the admired bread.  The day was a little chilly, so they drew their chairs near the stove, and Narcisse told Jessie, in his quaint broken English, how he and Charlie had spent the winter in the woods, how they had eaten and slept together, and how they had taken a liking to each other the very moment they met.