New Year's Eve in the Province of Quebec is quite another story; when that time arrived Oisette Mary was allowed to keep very late hours. Her brothers and sisters were all at home; some of the boys arriving on snowshoes brought friends with them.

A fiddler came (one could hardly call him a violinist). He sat on a chair which had been placed on a table; from this platform he called the dances and played his fiddle and beat time with his foot and sometimes, too, he sang to the music, and so did all the company. It was an orgy of sound.

Oisette kept awake until after supper; she was allowed a generous slice of an especially prepared cake known as "gillete du beurre" which the well-to-do Habitant serves to his guests at this season. Her pockets were full of nuts and raisins, and she was holding a new doll in her arms. As they arrived, every one kissed her on both cheeks, as is the French custom, and every one called out "Heureux AnnÉe" to her; which is their way of saying "Happy New Year."

During the festivities, the village CurÉ came in to call. He stood and watched the dancing and applauded the musician. He also shook hands with each member of the family and their guests. He sang with them, feasted with them, and smoked with the men. He was a very lovable character and had a wonderful power for good among his people. He brought Oisette a box of figs as a New Year's offering, and he patted her on the head when at last she went away to bed. The CurÉ went home at midnight, but the party went on until dawn.

The following morning, when Oisette awoke from her slumbers, she saw on the windowsill a little sparrow hopping about on the snowy ledge, so she tossed back the quilts, and ran down to her mother to beg for some crumbs.

To her surprise all her family objected, until it was explained to her by her father, that, according to a superstition that the French Canadian holds, no person should be allowed to carry anything out of a house on New Year's Day until something fresh has been brought in.

So she stood, with a tin biscuit box in her hand, in which were a lot of crumbs, waiting until some one should enter the outside door. It was very hard work for her to wait, and the bird seemed very impatient, but the family had said no, and when those who are older say no, it does not do to disobey. The French Canadian child is naturally obedient.

Presently she was rewarded and her tears turned to smiles, for with much scraping and pounding the outer door opened and in came her Uncle Napoleon, his arms filled with an assortment of packages.

Now, Napoleon was a guest of honor, for he was a young priest, and had but recently returned from the city of Baltimore, in the United States, where he had been in retreat. He, too, kissed all his relatives on both cheeks, as he distributed his gifts. When he came to little Oisette he put in her hand a small box, the top of which was full of small holes. "Have a care, little one," he said, "for your gift is alive."

Oisette was so thrilled that she let her tin box drop with a bang, crumbs and all. "Is it a mouse?" she ventured, "or a bird, mon oncle?"

Napoleon laughed and shook his head. "This box will make a good home for it," he said. "If we find some sand, some stones and some water." "It is a fish then!" declared her father, only he called it "un poisson."

In the meantime the little girl placed the package on the table and opened it carefully. "Oh—oo! la-la," she said, as out walked, very, very slowly, a baby turtle—just two inches long from tip to tip.

There were directions with it, from the vicar at St. Remo, explaining that it was full size and would need a little water to live in, a few crumbs and flies to live on.

So with stones taken from a flower pot, and sand from a celery box, a nice home was made inside the tin biscuit box.

On an island or dock formed by the stones and a bit of wood, the little turtle came out to sun himself when tired of the water. It was amusing, indeed, to watch him study his own image which was reflected in the side of the tin box. This tin, you see, was as clear and bright as a mirror, and to watch him bob his head about as he stopped to reflect on his new estate made the whole family laugh like children.

His little mistress wanted to call him "Vanity," but her Uncle Napoleon told her that the good vicar of St. Remo had named him "Jean Batiste," which is the French for John the Baptist!

Oisette was a tender-hearted little girl and she did not long forget that there were some little birds out in the cold dooryard, waiting for her to feed them. "Now, you see," she explained to her uncle, "since you have entered our house and brought in a turtle, I can carry out some crumbs to the poor oiseaux,—and, I suppose," she mused, "it means that we shall have turtles coming in all the year since a turtle was the first thing brought in on the glad New Year's Day."

Her Uncle Napoleon laughed very hard at this philosophy, and said: "But I should think the milk was brought in the first thing very early this morning, was it not, little one? Certainly you will have milk all the year, will you not?"

"Yes," chimed in her father. "We must thank the Bon Dieu that we shall have milk all the year."

Why had they not thought of that sooner, Oisette wondered, and not kept the birds waiting all this time! She could hear them now, chirp, chirp, chirp as though to hurry her.

Just at that moment Jean Batiste put his head out and winked solemnly and Oisette Mary opened the outer door and threw out plenty of crumbs; so it would seem that everybody and everything about the Tremblent farm had a Happy New Year.