While they ate, Priscilla chattered on and on about her playmates, while Desiré said “Yes” and “No” rather absent-mindedly. Where could Jack be?
“I’m going to bed,” yawned Priscilla, about seven o’clock. “We ran so much, I’m tired.”
“All right, dear.”
“Where are you going?” inquired the child, stopping on the stairs as she caught sight of her sister throwing a shawl around her shoulders.
“Only out to the road to watch for Jack.”
“You won’t go any farther, and leave us?”
“Of course not. Have I ever left you alone at night?”
“No-o-o.”
“Run along to bed then,” reaching up to pat the brown hand which grasped the stair railing.
What was keeping Jack?
For half an hour Desiré shifted her weight from one foot to the other, watching the darkening road. As soon as she spied his tall form, she ran to meet him and fell into step at his side.
“You must be nearly starved, dear,” she began.
“Not a bit. I happened to be at Henry Simard’s at about supper time, and nothing would do but I must stay and eat with them. I hope you weren’t worried,” looking down at Desiré anxiously.
“I tried not to be; for I thought perhaps you had gone farther than you intended.”
“Nicolas was ready when I got to his house, and Yves met us in Meteghan; so we fixed everything up successfully. The money which came to us I put into the bank for emergencies; for—I’m awfully sorry to have to tell you—there isn’t enough to buy and stock up a wagon, even if we decided to adopt that way of living. So I looked around a bit for some kind of a job.”
“Did you find anything?” asked Desiré, a bit breathlessly.
“Not yet; but I shall. We could—”
“Now that I’ve heard your news,” interrupted the girl eagerly, “just listen to mine. A man named Pierre Boisdeau came in an auto from Digby this afternoon with a message for us. Oh, Jack, the most wonderful thing! When he took some salmon down to Yarmouth the other day, they told him at the docks that old Simon had sent word to be sure to have anyone from up this way go to see him. So he went, and found the poor old man all crippled up with rheumatism. He will have to stay at his daughter’s house all summer. So he won’t be able to peddle. And Jack! He wants us to take his wagon! Isn’t that just glorious? He said that if we won’t take it and keep the route for him until he is well again, he’ll likely have to sell out. He doesn’t want to do that. Isn’t it just providential? This will give us a chance to try the experiment without much expense, and will provide for us for several months.”
“We are indeed very fortunate,” replied Jack gravely. “We could hardly take such an offer from anyone else, but Simon is such an old friend that he would feel hurt if we refused. As you say, it will give us a chance to find a place to settle in permanently. In the meantime, we shall be holding the route for him.”
They entered the house and dropped down beside the table, still covered with dishes, to finish their talk.
“Simon wants an answer as soon as possible; for he hates to think of all his customers being deserted for so long. You’d better write to him tonight.”
“I wonder,” said Jack slowly, after a few minutes’ consideration during which his sister scanned his serious, thoughtful face rather anxiously. “I wonder if it would be better for me to go down alone to get the wagon and pick you up on the way back; or, for all of us to ride to Yarmouth on the train, and start the route from there. Which should you like better?”
“To go to Yarmouth, of course; but won’t it cost a lot more?”
“Some, but—”
“I can prepare enough food for us to carry two meals, and there must be some place where we could camp just outside of the city.”
“Anxious to get started?”
“Yes. I hate goodbyes. I’d like to steal out right away, without anybody knowing it.”
“I’m afraid you can’t leave our good neighbors like that. They have known us all our lives; and think how hurt they would feel.”
“I suppose so; but they all want us to do something different, and criticize nôtre père for trying to educate us.”
“They don’t understand, but they mean well and have been very kind to us.”
“I know, and I do appreciate it; but—couldn’t we start soon?”
“Day after tomorrow, I should think. I’m afraid one trunk and the box in the store room will be all we can take on our travels. Shall you be able to manage that way?”
“I’ll try to; but what shall I do with the furniture?”
“Give it away, or leave it for Yves. We’ll just have to stifle all sentimental affection for our household gods.”
“We’ll have a house of our own again some day, and get new household gods.”
* * * *
Intense excitement prevailed in the Clare District on Wednesday afternoon. Little groups of women and children were hurrying along the dusty road. On every doorstep a man or woman too old, or a child too young, to join the procession was sitting waiting to wave farewell to the travelers when they passed. These good people were much disturbed at the departure of the little Wistmore family. It was almost unheard of for any of the Acadian families voluntarily to leave that peaceful section and wander among strangers in unfamiliar parts of the country. Occasionally, within their knowledge, an individual or two had decided to seek his fortune elsewhere; but never before a whole family, and the Wistmores at that! The neighbors had done their best, one and all, to dissuade the children from following such a course; but since their words of advice and warning had proved of no avail, they were now on their way, bearing little gifts of good will, to bid the adventurers Godspeed.
When Jack drove up with André Comeau who was going to take them to the station, three miles away, the yard was filled with little groups of neighbors; and inside the house still others were saying their reluctant farewells. Shaking the hands held out to him on every side, Jack gently pushed through the crowd; and, with André’s help, loaded their one trunk and box onto the wagon. Then he detached Desiré and the children from the weeping women, and helped them up to the seats which had been made of rough planks laid across the wagon box. The crowd drew back, and amid a chorus of “Bon jour!” “Au revoir!” the travelers started on their journey.
Desiré and Priscilla, with tears rolling down their faces, waved as long as they could see their old friends, and answered salutations from many a doorstep; but Jack, with set face, did not look back at all. Even René was unusually quiet, hardly knowing what to make of it all. The train pulled into the tiny station just as they reached the platform, and there was no time to be lost. Before the children, to whom a railroad was a novelty, had time hardly to glance at the long train, its freight cars placed ahead of the coaches, as is common in Nova Scotia, they were hustled on board, the bell rang, and they were off.
CHAPTER IV
OUT TO SEA
The little party was very quiet during the ride, which took two hours. The older members were occupied with their own thoughts, very serious ones, and the young pair engrossed in looking out of the window.
Rolling rocky land; woods where sombre and stately pines and firs made a fitting background for the graceful slender white trunks of the birch trees; miles of ferns close to the tracks; tiny stations; glimpses, between the trees, of rustic dwellings and a few more pretentious summer homes; flashes