For this the Cure could vouch.

Her official position made her the servant of the public, and she did her duty with naturalness.
She had been a figure in the parish ever since the day she returned from the convent at Quebec, and took her dead mother's place in the home and the parish.

She had a quick temper, but there was not a cheerless note in her nature, and there was scarce a dog or a horse in the parish but knew her touch, and responded to it.

Squirrels ate out of her hand, she had even tamed two partridges, and she kept in her little garden a bear she had brought up from a cub.

Her devotion to her crippled father was in keeping with her quick response to every incident of sorrow or joy in the parish--only modified by wilful prejudices scarcely in keeping with her unselfishness.
As Mrs.Flynn, the Seigneur's Irish cook, said of her: "Shure, she's not made all av wan piece, the darlin'! She'll wear like silk, but she's not linen for everybody's washin'." And Mrs.Flynn knew a thing or two, as was conceded by all in Chaudiere.