“Where can we take you, or what can we do for you?” asked Jack briskly.
“Nothin’.”
“That’s ridiculous! You can’t stay here. Could you walk as far as the wagon if we helped you?”
“Can try.”
With the aid of Jack and Desiré, one on either side, he managed to get up. One or two promptly stifled groans broke from him, and he swayed precariously as he tried to stand.
“One foot’s no good,” he muttered, holding it up and throwing all his weight on the other.
“You two children go back and get into your places in the wagon,” ordered Jack. “Push your stools as close to the front seat as you can.”
Reluctantly they obeyed, hanging over the seat to watch the little procession. Slowly, painfully, stopping often to rest, the injured man was finally helped as far as the wagon.
“Lean on the wheel a minute,” directed Jack, “so my sister can get things fixed for you.”
Desiré opened the back doors, pushed the tent as far to the side as it would go, and arranged a couple of blankets on the floor.
“This is going to be the hardest bit,” observed Jack, when all was ready, “but we’ve got to make it some way.”
“Prissy and I can help him from the wagon, if you can manage out here,” suggested Desiré.
“All right, get in.”
The two girls, Priscilla under protest, grasped the man’s shoulders and pulled, while Jack eased his body and legs up from the ground to the floor of the wagon. Half fainting with pain and exertion, the patient was finally settled on the blankets.
“Where are you going to take him?” asked Desiré softly, as Jack took his place and picked up the reins.
“Back to Halifax, where he can get a doctor. I think his ribs as well as his foot are injured; and Heaven only knows what else.”
They were all very quiet as they re-covered the ten miles to the city. Priscilla was sullen; René somewhat awed; Desiré compassionate, and Jack thoughtful.
As they entered Halifax, Jack turned toward their passenger and asked—
“Any special place here you want to be taken?”
“Wharf. Pal there who’ll look after me.”
Over the cobblestones, down the steep hill to the docks they rattled.
“There he is. Tall fellow beside that pile of crates,” said the man who had been peering out the crack between the doors, which had been propped partly open to give him more air.
“Bill!” he shouted.
The fisherman turned at the sound of his name, and Jack beckoned. With three or four strides he was beside the wagon.
“What’s wanted?”
Before the boy could reply, the injured man called out—“I’m in here, Bill. Had a smash.”
The newcomer, without a word, stepped to the back of the wagon and stuck his head in. After a short conversation, during which the Wistmores stood beside the horses’ heads, he slid the invalid part way out, put his powerful arms under him, and picked him up like a child.
“Much obliged to you for bringing him back,” he said awkwardly to Jack; then strode away down the wharf; but before they were out of earshot, the injured man called back over the other one’s shoulder—“You’ve won!”
“Well, of all strange experiences,” exclaimed Desiré.
“Whatever did he mean?” asked Priscilla.
“Perhaps that he wouldn’t bother us any more,” replied Jack slowly.
“An’ he didn’t give you any money, nor nothin’,” grumbled René, as they started out of Halifax for the second time that day. “I thought if anybody helped anyone else they always gave ’em a—a—re—reward.”
“Wedidget a reward,” said Desiré softly, “but not the kind you mean.”
“Where’s his wagon?” demanded Priscilla.
“Probably he left it in Halifax,” replied Jack carelessly, as he wondered just what harm to themselves the pile of stones might have thwarted.
Progress on the way back toward Wolfville was necessarily slow; for housewives all along the route were preparing for the coming winter when indoor occupations must replace the activities of the warm months. Thread, wool, and notions of all kinds were in great demand; for the women folk must keep busy with more feminine tasks, the hands that during the summer had helped in gardens and farmyards, as well as in picking blueberries to be shipped to the States. Daily great trucks stop at the scattered houses along certain sections rich in that fruit to gather up supplies and take their loads to the seaports where ships are waiting for them. The average tourists en route from Nova Scotia to the States little know, when they are pacing the decks of the comfortable steamers, that far below are crates and crates of berries which will later be consumed by themselves at home or in hotels.
Several times Jack had to replenish his stock as best he could from some town through which they passed; and Desiré daily rejoiced at the steadily increasing number of coins in their little iron bank.
“We’ll be rich yet!” she exulted, shaking it merrily as they drove away from Mount Uniacke.
“Sorry to destroy your hopes,” said Jack, half under his breath, so as not to be overheard by the two children on the floor behind them, playing a hotly contested game on the board which Mrs. Auberge had given them. “Had you thought that we’ll have to get some kind of furniture for the Godet house?”
Desiré looked at him wide-eyed with surprise and dismay.
“Why, Jack, how stupid I am! I never once thought of it.”
“Nor I, until today. I don’t know what was the matter with our brains.”
As if stunned by the discovery, they drove for some time in utter silence. In the protection afforded by an upturned coat collar, and a hat pulled far down over her curls, the girl let fall a few tears. Jack, gazing fixedly ahead, half buried in a coat at least two sizes too large for him, was apparently oblivious of her distress.
The day was grey and cold, with a brisk wind whirling the golden leaves of the birches in all directions, scattering the piles of brushwood collected and left beside the road by some native for firewood; rolling the pine cones merrily along in the dust, and making the great firs and balsams toss their branches ceaselessly. Its chill warned of the near approach of snow and ice.
“Jack,” began Desiré at last.
“Yes?” untangling himself from his problems with a start, and turning toward her.
“I’ve been thinking about expenses for the winter. Of course food will cost more, because while we were on the road we had fish and berries to help out; but in regard to the furniture, we could get only what is absolutely necessary for now, and add other pieces as we were able to. We could doubtless pick up used articles at low prices. Think how little we got for our own things when we sold them.”
“But you and the children have got to be comfortable, and warm,” said Jack decidedly. “Camp life in the summer is all right; but too much makeshift doesn’t work in the winter time.”
“You must be comfortable, too,” added Desiré affectionately; “but wecando with a couple of mattresses on the floor, and a table and four chairs for the present. Maybe we could buy those from someone in Wolfville who had more than they needed, and get them cheaper that way.”
“We must have a stove, dishes, and bedding,” added Jack.
“The fireplace will do for heating; and I can cook on the camp stove. We’ve had enough dishes and bedding for the summer; so a couple of extra blankets will be all that we’ll have to buy in that line.”
“But I don’t want you to live like that,” interrupted her brother; “we should have been more comfortable if we’d stayed in Sissiboo—”
“Oh, Jack! With you killing yourself trying to pay off a big debt, and no prospects for years and years! As it is, at least we’re not in debt; we’ve had a lovely summer, in spite of a few unpleasant spots; we’re all healthy and together; and we’re going to live in the Godet house this winter.”
“You’re a cheerful little partner, Dissy,” said Jack, looking at her so admiringly that she flushed with shame as she recalled the tears so recently shed.
“Of course we have money enough to get actual necessities for the winter,” he continued, shamed by his sister’s courage into taking a more hopeful view of their situation. “And I’m hoping that I’ll be able to pick up something steady in Wolfville, or even Windsor, for the winter.”
“Perhaps the judge will be able to help you.”
“He might.”
“So don’t get all blue and discouraged again, Jack dear; we’ll come out all right.”
Late in the afternoon of another dull day, they stopped in front of Judge Herbine’s house.
“Guess we got here just in time,” observed Jack, as he got out, pointing to a few stray flakes of snow idling aimlessly through the air as if they didn’t care whether they stayed up or floated down.
The judge himself opened the door.
“So here you are at last!” was his pleasant greeting. “Come in—have a cup of tea—before you go—to look at your own place. Work’s all done.”
They were all cold and tired, and very glad to accept his invitation. His housekeeper, Madam Lovemore—for the judge had never married—bustled around preparing a substantial supper instead of “tea.” She was a sociable, motherly creature, who loved to have company at any time; but the thoughts of these poor young things driving so many miles in the cold, and going to live in that old house, so touched her heart that no effort was too great, and no food too fine to be placed before them.
“Favored—” remarked the judge, as he seated his guests at the dining room table. “Best plum preserves—my housekeeper must like your looks.”
Madam Lovemore, who was just taking her accustomed place at the foot of the table, smiled indulgently at him, as one might smile at an outspoken child.
The meal lasted a long time; for the judge wanted to hear all about their summer. Once he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen where he held a lengthy conversation with some unseen person.
“Right away!” they heard him say, as he was about to re-enter the dining room.
“We’ll go over—with you,” he said, when Jack proposed their departure, saying that they counted on staying in the house that night, living camp fashion until they had a chance to get the necessities. For an hour, René had been asleep on the horse-hair sofa, and Priscilla’s head kept nodding.
“They’re tired, poor dears,” said Madam Lovemore compassionately, as she helped Desiré put their wraps on.
When they went outside, they discovered that the world had completely changed its appearance. A thin layer of snow made the roads look like strips of white cloth; each dried weed, seed pod, and knot of grass had a spotless cap; and the outstretched arms of the firs held their light burden so tenderly that not a flake was shaken off.
The judge was to drive over in the Ford, Madam Lovemore holding the still sleeping René in her lap.
“He’ll be awful mad tomorrow,” volunteered Priscilla, who was now fully awake, “when he hears that he’s been riding in an automobile and didn’t know anything about it.”
The judge laughed, a sudden explosion, over almost before it began.
“In that case—you’d better come in here too; so you can tell him—what it felt like.”
The little girl’s wistful look and tone had not been unnoticed by the judge; and though they were somewhat crowded, both he and his housekeeper gladly put up with the slight discomfort of an additional passenger.
“Prissy is thrilled to death,” said Desiré to Jack, as they followed the Ford with as much speed as the tired horses were able to make.
“Yes, but I wish you could have had a ride, too. You’ve always wanted one.”
“Oh, some day I shall.”
The headlights of the judge’s car, which had just turned off the main road into the lane leading to the Godet house, revealed the fact that all underbrush had been cleared away, and the road filled in. So occupied were they with the unexpected improvement, that not until they had stopped in front of the cabin did they notice that it was lighted.
The judge, with René in his arms, ushered them inside.
“Welcome—to Wolfville!” he cried, “and to the old Godet house.”
Jack and Desiré stood quite speechless, and even the generally talkative Priscilla could find no words. They could only look while the judge and his housekeeper watched them smilingly, though very close to tears themselves.
René broke the spell.
“Oh—o—o!” he wailed, digging his fists into his eyes, still half asleep.
“What’s the matter—young fellow?” demanded the judge, who still held him.
“I didn’t finish my piece of cake!” wailed the child. He had dozed off at the table, before finishing his supper.
They all laughed, while Madam Lovemore consoled René by promising him another piece the next day. Then the young Wistmores inspected their home.
Partitions separated the cabin into three rooms: a large one, across one end, which was to do duty as a general living room, with a place for cooking at one end; and two small ones as sleeping quarters. The partitions and floors were painted a soft blue, which was relieved by the dark logs of the side walls and the beamed roof. Rag rugs lay upon the floor, a table occupied the centre of the living room, and around it were four ladder-back chairs. Beside the stone fireplace was a low wooden rocker and a high-backed upholstered one. Each bedroom had a fully furnished double wooden bed, and a wash stand. There was a bright fire in the fireplace; simple muslin curtains were hung at the windows; and a few pots of geraniums on a small stand added to the homelikeness of the place.
“But—the furniture—” began Desiré, when she was able to put her thoughts into words. Jack was still too dazed to speak.
“Gifts from the people of Wolfville to the children of the ancient Acadians,” replied the judge pompously.
“We can never repay them,” faltered Jack.
“Don’t want you to. They were glad—to do it. Liked idea—descendants to occupy old house—deserted for so long.”
“Such a welcome I never dreamed of,” murmured Desiré. “I don’t see why people are so kind to us.”
The judge and his good housekeeper exchanged smiles at her naive remark.
“Why, don’t you want them to be?” demanded Priscilla in astonishment.
“Of course,” answered her sister, attempting unsuccessfully to draw the child to her side; but Priscilla was too bent on inspecting article by article in her new home to have any time for cuddling just then.
“Now you folks—had better—get to bed,” said the judge, preparing for departure. “You’ve had a hard day—lots of excitement. I’ll lead the team back with me. Will they follow—the Ford—do you think?”
“I imagine so,” replied Jack. “They’re very gentle.”
He followed the judge outside to help him with the horses, while Madam Lovemore bade an affectionate goodnight to her new friends.
“Just run over any time anything bothers you, my dear,” she said to Desiré.
“’N’ not no other time?” asked René, fearful of such an agreement working to his disadvantage.
“Whenever you like—” began the housekeeper.
“Don’t tell him that,” advised Desiré, “or you may see him oftener than you wish.”
Meanwhile Jack was saying to the judge, “Of course I know that you are really the one to be thanked for all that,” waving his arm at the cozy, lighted cabin.
“Not at all,” asserted the man stoutly. “The neighbors all helped. Liked it. Lots of fun.”
“Yet they never would have known about us, or our needs, if you had not told them, and made suggestions. I just can’t express my very deep gratitude, especially on account of my little sisters. René can rough it, but I hate to have the girls deprived of ordinary comforts. Sometimes I wonder if I have done the right thing—”
“One always wonders that—no matter what one does. Go in, boy,—and send my housekeeper out. Want to get home.”
Housekeeping in the new home was a delight and a novelty, after the many weeks of camp life; and the Wistmores were very happy. Jack took Priscilla into Wolfville the second day after they arrived, and made arrangements for her to attend school, much to her chagrin, for she had hoped for a longer holiday.
“No sense in her running about for days, and missing something which will cause trouble for her later,” Jack had said, when discussing the matter with Desiré. “While it is still pleasant, she can walk back and forth morning and afternoon, and carry her lunch. In winter, we’ll try to make some different arrangements.”
After settling Priscilla, Jack consulted the judge about getting work for himself.
“See what I can do,” he promised; and while he was waiting, Jack helped Desiré with the lessons she was trying to do by herself.
The snow which had greeted them on their arrival disappeared almost immediately, and the beautiful days of Indian summer hovered over the valley of the Gaspereau. Jack and Desiré, sometimes accompanied by René, but oftener leaving him with his staunch admirer, Madam Lovemore, spent many hours rambling around the country after their work was done. It was a treat to both; for though they had much in common, they seldom had opportunities for private companionship, due to the constant demands of the younger members of the family.
After a week of idling, Jack made some trips through the nearby country with the wagon, but the day schedules were soon exhausted; and he began to be anxious about a different job. Some of the nearer neighbors began to drop in occasionally; so Desiré could not be his constant companion, and he grew restless.
“The people within a day’s drive are too near Wolfville for this to be a very good place for a store like ours,” he told Desiré when he returned one afternoon after a rather profitless day. “One does not sell enough to pay for expenses. So I guess we’ll decide to put up the wagon and team for the winter. In the spring, as soon as the roads permit, I’ll have to take it back to old Simon at Yarmouth.”
“Don’t you meanwe’lltake it back, dear?” asked Desiré.
“Perhaps; we’ll see when the time comes. I hope the judge will be able to find a job for me pretty soon; my own efforts are fruitless.”
“Don’t worry; if we have to use up all of our little nest egg, we’ll do it; that’s all.”
Desiré spoke bravely, but she felt sad to see Jack’s prospects of continuing his education retreat so far into the background as almost to disappear. The succeeding days were anxious ones. Jack roamed about, restless and worried, not having enough with which to occupy himself; for the weather had changed, and outdoor rambles were over for that year.
One afternoon a heavy rain began to fall, and it looked as if it meant to continue indefinitely.
“Poor Prissy will get soaked,” said Desiré, gazing out of the window for the fifth time.
“I’ll go after her,” offered Jack.
“But what good would it do for you to get soaked, too?”
“None, I suppose. The poor kid ought to have a raincoat and an umbrella,” he muttered, half to himself.
“I’ve been thinking about clothes, Jack, and it seems to me that we’ll have to draw some of what we got for the farm—”
“But that’s in the bank at Yarmouth,” objected Jack quickly, “and you know we said it shouldn’t be touched except for sickness or other emergencies.”
“I know, but this is an emergency; isn’t it? If we don’t buy a few necessary articles of clothing, we’ll run the risk of sickness, and that would be far more expensive.”
“You’re right, of course. Make out a list of what we need, and then we’ll count the probable cost.”
“We’ll do it together,” said Desiré, getting pencil and paper, and sitting down at the table beside her brother.
They were so engrossed in their problem that they both jumped violently when there was a quick knock, and the judge stepped into the room, closely followed by Priscilla. René, who had been amusing himself in the corner with some toys which had been part of the “furnishings” of the cabin, darted across the room to fling himself upon the caller.
“This is a—terrible day!” exclaimed the judge. “Thought the girl might—be drowned if—she tried to—walk home. So I hitched up the old Ford—and went after her.”
Desiré began to express her gratitude, but he brushed aside her attempts.
“Nothing to it—wanted to see this boy—anyhow,” taking the chair Jack offered him, and glancing up at the tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a smile which, as Priscilla said, made his face “all crinkled.”
“Guess I’ve got—a job for you,” he continued. “Know old man Beaumont?”
Jack shook his head gravely, though his heart rejoiced at the prospect of finding employment at last.
“He’s been postman around here—for—I don’t know how many years. Too old now—but won’t give up; been trying to fix things—so he’d have a helper. Orders came couple of weeks ago—good job for you—if you want it.”
“Wantit!” repeated Jack. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I want it.”
“Government furnishes a little wagon—you’ll use one of your own horses—that is until snow gets too deep. Then you’ll have to go on—on snowshoes. Have to go to town—to get your orders—better go now in my Ford.”
So, in an excited bustle, Jack got ready and departed with the judge.
“Don’t worry—about his getting wet,” the judge leaned far out of the car to call to Desiré, who was standing in the doorway, “I’ll bring him—back again.”
It was supper time before they returned, and the rain had subsided for a time; but the judge refused to come in although Desiré ran out to the car and urged him to stay.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she added, leaning over the door after he had started the engine, “for getting Jack the job. He was so restless and worried, andalmostunhappy; and when Jack’s upset, well—it just about kills me.”
The judge’s keen eyes softened, and he patted her hand kindly, saying, “Run in, child—you’ll catch cold. Hear all Jack has to tell you.”
He drove rapidly down the lane, and Desiré returned to her family. They spent a happy evening around the fire, making plans for the future. Now there would be no need of drawing on the previous funds for clothing!
The next day the sun came out, and as soon as breakfast was over the whole family started out for Wolfville, picking their way carefully around the big puddles. They left Priscilla at school, and then went on to Judge Herbine’s to clear out the wagon preparatory to putting it up for the winter.
“Where are you going to put all that?” asked Madam Lovemore, coming out in the midst of their labors, to look at all the stock spread on papers on the barn floor.
“Some of it we’ll use ourselves, and the rest store until spring,” answered Desiré, who was busy sorting goods that would keep from those which would not, while Jack, with pencil and paper, was taking inventory.
“There’s lots of room in the attic. Just take what you want to save up there. No use carting it down to your house, where you need all the space you have.”
The judge had ambled in while she was talking, and strolled around, peering at first one pile and then another.
“You’ve a day’s job here,” he observed. “When you hear the bell—come in to dinner.”
By night the task was finished, and the wagon empty. The judge presented Jack with a shovel and an axe, saying, “Can’t travel without these in these parts in the winter time. You’ll want them—in the mail wagon. They’re going to send it down—in the morning.”
Desiré looked at him in surprise.
“Why will he need a shovel and an axe?” she asked.
“Caught in storms sometimes—have to dig your way out—trees fall in high winds—only way is to chop your way through.”
Throughout supper, to which the judge insisted upon their staying also, Desiré was very quiet; and on the way home she took little part in the children’s chatter.
“What’s the matter, Dissy?” inquired Jack, after the younger ones were in bed.
“Oh, Jack! I was so very glad when you got the appointment; and now I’m so afraid for you,” she whispered, dropping her head on his broad shoulder.
“But why?” he asked in surprise, slipping his arm around her.
“Because of the storms—the falling trees,” she choked. “I never thought of that part of it.”
“But I’m strong and well, dear; and the work won’t hurt me. And I promise you that I’ll be very careful, and take no foolish chances. I don’t like to think of you sitting at home, nervous and unhappy, all the time I’m away. That would make the work much harder. So you’ll try to be brave, and not worry?”
Desiré made a desperate effort to put aside her fears, and promised to do as Jack wished.
Jack had seen the storm approaching as he was driving along a lonely road above a valley in the late afternoon, but it would have been about as far to turn back to the nearest shelter as it would to go on as fast as he could to the next. Urging the horses to do their best (for during the severe weather he was using the team), he drew up the robe, turned down the sides of his cap, and fastened up his coat collar. The snow came down faster and faster.
“Good thing there’s no wind,” he muttered; but even as he spoke a spiteful gust snatched up an armful of snow, and whirled it into his face. The horses did their best, but the road seemed endless; nothing could be seen except limitless stretches of white country, and trees whose branches sagged under their heavy loads.
There was a sudden crash, and right across his way dropped a huge limb of a birch tree, stretching from one side of the road to the other. The horses stopped, snorting with fright, and when Jack had quieted them, he reached into the back of the wagon for the axe, and got out to clear a pathway. He dared not try to drive around it; for he could not tell, on account of the snow, just where the ground began to slope sharply away toward the valley; and he wasn’t really anxious for a roll down those hills.
Chopping the way through was a hard task for one, and Jack had to stop very often to rest; by the time he finished, it was dark.
“Well, now we’re going on,” he said cheerily, giving a pat to either horse as he passed their heads after dragging out the cut section of the tree. The patient animals had stood quietly, heads dropped, bodies relaxed, while he worked. He had thrown blankets across them, and the rest had given them a chance to get their wind again. So they threw themselves gallantly forward to their task, and soon pulled the wagon down into the valley.
Here the road was not so good; for the snow had blown down the sides of the hills and settled in drifts, some small and fairly passable, others most difficult to plough through. Several times Jack had to get out and shovel before the horses were able to get the wagon any farther on its way. The lanterns on the wagon gave a fair light, with the help of the whiteness all about them, but the road became increasingly difficult to follow; and at last Jack had to admit to himself that he was lost. He had no idea which way to turn; but it was impossible to stand still for the night—they would be buried before morning if the snow kept on, and the horses would perish. Recalling various stories of the intelligence, or instinct, of animals under like circumstances, he decided to give the horses a loose rein and trust to Providence. The faithful beasts plodded on and on, while Jack strained his eyes through the whirling snowflakes, searching for signs of habitation.
Some time during the night he saw a dim outline in front of him, and the horses stopped. With an unspoken prayer of gratitude, he dropped down from the seat, stiffly walked a few steps to the house, and knocked.
After an interval, a light appeared; the door opened a crack, and a gruff voice demanded what was wanted. Jack, in a few words, explained his presence and the man immediately threw wide the door, bidding him enter and make himself at home.
“But my team—” began Jack.
The man cut him short. “I’ll look after it. Go in and go to bed. The missus will show you where.”
A big dim room, with one flickering lamp; a woman wrapped in a shawl, standing in a doorway opening into another room; several figures, each rolled in a blanket and lying near the fireplace—such a sight greeted Jack as he entered.
“Here’s a blanket,” said the woman. “You can lie wherever you like in this room.”
She disappeared at once, and the boy spread the blanket on the floor a little beyond the other dark, motionless figures. He rolled himself in the blanket, and, using the mail bag for a pillow, tried to sleep. Being exhausted, in spite of the hard bed he dropped off almost as soon as the man came in from caring for the team.
In the morning he felt stiff and sore, and his head ached, due to sleeping on the floor, he supposed. His host and hostess greeted him as casually as if he had been dropping in there every night, and offered him breakfast.
“My name’s De Vigne,” said the man, as they sat down to the table.
The three dark figures of last night still lay rolled up beside the hearth, and Jack kept looking at them as he gave his host a brief account of his adventures. Finally, curiosity getting the better of him, he ventured, “Those fellows sick?”
“Yes,” answered De Vigne, glancing carelessly at them. “Flu, I guess. One of them is our hired man. The other fellows dropped in here last night a few hours ahead of you.”
Jack was a brave boy, with no foolish dread of illness; but the flu! The disease which had deprived them of their father, of that he was afraid; not so much on his own account, but because of Desiré. Poor girl, she must be half frantic by now. If he’d only had some way of getting word to her. He must lose no time in starting out again.
Mr. De Vigne gave him the necessary directions for getting back on his route again, and an hour later he was delivering the letters which had taken him to that lonely section. Then he headed for home.
The sun came out and the snowy fields became dazzling. If only his head wouldn’t ache so hard, and his stomach feel so queer. Probably when he got some of Desiré’s good cooking, he’d be all right. Yesterday he hadn’t eaten much, and he had been able to swallow very little of the breakfast provided this morning by the De Vignes. Encouraging himself in every way he could, he managed to drive all the way back; and in the middle of the afternoon, put the team in its place. As he was leaving the barn, he met the judge who had hurried out as soon as he caught sight of the open door.
“By Jove, boy!” he began; then stopped. “You’re sick! Come right in and go to bed. We’ll take care of you.”
“Desiré,” faltered Jack, swaying a little in the judge’s grasp.
“I’ll get her—Jonas! Come here and help me!”
With the aid of the hired man, the judge soon had Jack in bed in the room next to his own, and had sent for the doctor. Madam Lovemore was rushing around, heating bottles, and preparing broth. The trusty Ford never made such good time as it did going down to the cabin and back. The snow flew in all directions as the judge forced the machine through it. Desiré, worn and terrified by her night of fruitless watching, almost fainted when the judge appeared and told her his story. Jack’s needs, however, forced her to make a desperate effort to be calm. In a very short time the judge deposited her and the two children on his own doorstep.
“We’ve plenty of room,” he decreed, “and you must all stay here until the boy’s well.”
“He’s asleep now, my dear,” was Madam Lovemore’s greeting as she kissed Desiré in the hall. “The doctor’s been here; and while he’s not positive, yet he thinks it’s just a heavy cold.”
All the hours of waiting, the anxiety, the shock, resulted in one wild burst of tears when Desiré peered in at Jack, sleeping heavily, his face red, his lips drawn in tense lines. Madam Lovemore led her hastily into a room on the opposite side of the hall, and closed the door. Sitting down in a big rocker, she drew the girl into her lap as if she had been René, and let her cry.
“I’m—sorry—” gasped Desiré presently.
“It’s only natural, you poor little girl. Have your cry out, and you’ll feel lots better. Then we’ll make some plans.”
Jack slept most of the day, waking once to smile feebly at Desiré who was bending over him. She could not trust herself to speak, and only kissed him tenderly.
Under the care of good Dr. Caronne, and with the help of the delicious, nourishing foods prepared by Madam Lovemore, and the combined nursing of the entire household, Jack escaped the flu. After a couple of days he was able to get up, and a week later the Wistmores returned to their own home; and Jack went back to work.
“We can never, never hope to repay what they have done for us,” said Jack gravely, when they were talking of the kindness of their host and hostess that night. “You children must remember that, and do everything you can for them, every little thing.”
“I will,” announced René solemnly. “I’m goin’ to marry Mad’m Lovemore when I grow up.”
“I’m sure,” said Jack, “that would be a wonderful way to repay her.”
During the rest of the winter Jack used snowshoes for delivering the mail, and Desiré was so fascinated by them that she learned to use her brother’s when he did not need them. One day when he came from Windsor he brought her a pair, and suggested that whenever he went on short trips, she accompany him. She was delighted, and quite often after that she left René at the judge’s, and went skimming over the snow with her beloved brother, dearer now than ever after the fear of losing him.
“It’s so mild out that I shouldn’t be surprised if we had rain,” announced Jack, when he came in from his day’s work one night late in the winter.
“Rain!” exclaimed Priscilla. “Why, it’s still winter.”
However, Jack proved to be a good weather prophet; for when they woke up the following morning, rain was falling steadily, and the snow looked soft and dirty. That was the beginning of the break-up of winter. Each day the sun rose higher and its rays became warmer; and each day more of the snow melted, softening the ground and filling streams, large and small, to the very brim.
The winds were softer and warmer; the birds returned and began looking for home sites; and the air was alive with their calls. From the new green of the marshes came the continuous croaking of frogs. Then the first wild flowers slipped quietly into bloom; the fruit trees pushed out bud after bud until they were covered with fragrant blossoms. Nova Scotia had come to active life again after the hard winter.
The day Priscilla brought in a cluster of arbutus, there was a general rejoicing. The delicate pink blossom is greatly prized by the people of Nova Scotia, and has been made the national flower.
“The darlings!” cried Desiré, holding the tiny flowers close to her nose in order to inhale their dainty fragrance.
“Up in the woods of Prince Edward Island the Indians will be very busy now that the Mayflower—for that is the other name for arbutus—has come,” observed Jack.
“Why?” asked Priscilla, putting her bouquet carefully in water.
“As soon as the flowers appear, the young Indian braves search carefully for the finest specimens they can find to throw at the woman they want to marry. It is one of their regular customs; so you can imagine how excited the maidens are at this time of the year.”
“What a pretty custom,” said Desiré; but the practical, unromantic Priscilla thought it very funny, and so expressed herself as she placed the vase in the center of the table.
“And where are the Indians?” demanded René.
“Nowhere near here; so don’t go looking for them,” ordered his brother.
René looked very serious for a moment, and said that he wouldn’t. Apparently he had some none too pleasant recollections of one escapade in following Indians.
The apple orchards around Wolfville had begun to drop their sweet pink and white petals, and the countryside was streaked here and everywhere with the deep blue of the iris, the fleur-de-lys of France, when Jack commented to Desiré one night that they’d better take old Simon’s wagon back to him.
She laughed. “Youdidsaywethis time. When do you want to start?”
“Could you manage it by Monday?”
“This is Friday. Why, yes, I could. What will you do about your job while you’re gone?”
“It goes back to its regular owner,” replied Jack, trying to speak lightly; adding, as Desiré looked puzzled, “The old man can manage well enough in pleasant weather. I was only a helper for the winter months, you know. When we come back for the summer, if we decide to stay here, I’ll have to look for something else. I can probably get something either here or at Windsor. We’ll talk it over on the road.”
“Shall we take the children, or leave them with Madam Lovemore? When I mentioned one day our having to go to Yarmouth, she offered to keep them if we wished.”
“It would seem too much like imposing,” objected Jack; “she has been so very kind to us.”
“Yes,” admitted Desiré; “and yet I know she’s very willing.”
“One thing,” said Jack thoughtfully, “I hate to have Priscilla miss so many days of school, and she would have to if we took her. How would it do if we left her and took René? Do you think that would be a good idea?”
“Yes; I think that would be fine, and it would even things up better. Prissy can be quite a help to Madam Lovemore, while René always bears watching. I suppose Prissy won’t like being left behind, though.”
“Probably not; and it will seem queer to leave her. It will be the first time we’ve been separated since—”
“Yes,” said Desiré hurriedly, as Jack’s voice faltered; “but we know that she will be well cared for; and after we’re once gone, she’ll soon get used to the new conditions.”
So it was settled, and although at first Priscilla was inclined to feel injured, by the time Monday came she was quite resigned.