Till Charley had come to Chaudiere, it had all been the undisciplined
ardour of a girl's nature. A change had begun in the moment when she had
tearfully thrust the oil and flour in upon his excoriated breast. Later
came real awakening, and a riotous outpouring of herself in sympathy, in
observation, in a reckless kindness which must have done her harm but
that her clear intelligence balanced her actions, and because secrecy in
one thing helped to restrain her in all. Yet with all the fresh overflow
of her spirit, which, assisted by her new position as postmistress, made
her a conspicuous and popular figure in the parish, where officialdom had
rare honour and little labour, she had prejudices almost unworthy of her,
due though they were to radical antipathy. These prejudices, one against
Jo Portugais and the other against Paulette Dubois, she had never been
able entirely to overcome, though she had honestly tried. On the way
to the hospital at Quebec, however, Jo had been so careful of her father,
so respectful when speaking of M'sieu', so regardful of her own comfort,
that her antagonism to him was lulled. But the strong prejudice against
Paulette Dubois remained, casting a shadow on her bright spirit.

All this day she had moved about in a mellow dream, very busy, scarcely
thinking. New feelings dominated her, and she was too primitive to
analyse them and too occupied with them to realise acutely the life about
her. Work was an abstraction, resting rather than tiring her.

Many times she had looked across at the tailor-shop, only seeing Charley
once. She did not wish to speak with him now, nor to be near him yet;
she wanted this day for herself only.

So it was that, soon after the Cure and the Seigneur had bade good-bye to
Charley, she left the post-office and went quickly through the village