“On the road to prosperity!” finished Desiré, giving him a hug and taking up her sewing again.
“Not exactly prosperity, I’m afraid; but at least the means of existence,” laughed Jack.
“The funny part of the performance,” he went on, “is that Dr. Myers did not tell me to say to Mr. Libermann that he had sent me; and that gentleman didn’t have courage to remind him of the fact when he got so excited over my being turned down.”
The children were delighted when they heard that another three weeks were to be spent in that pleasant spot, but deplored the absence of their playfellow, Jack. Unaccustomed to work of the heavy kind that was required of him in the shipyard, he was naturally very tired when he returned at night; and Desiré tried to prevent the younger ones from making any demands at all upon him. She was careful, too, to keep unpleasant topics and worries from him.
The days were lonely for her; their simple housekeeping was soon done, and she could not play with the children all the time. So in desperation, one day, she took the cover off the box of articles saved from their old home, and hunted through until she found Jack’s first year high school books.
“If I can’t go to school,” she decided, “I can at least study a little by myself. I won’t bother Jack now, but later he will help me over the things I can’t understand.”
After that, the days did not drag so slowly.
The doctor kept an eye on Jack, and at unexpected times dropped into the yards to see him. In spite of the difference in their ages, the two became good friends; and both were genuinely sorry when the end of their companionship arrived.
“The doctor wants me to be on the lookout for a certain kind of ox on the way back to Halifax,” said Jack, the night before they broke camp.
“Halifax?” said Priscilla. “I thought we were going to Bridgeriver.”
“Bridgewater,” corrected Desiré, laughing.
“Well, a river is water,” persisted Priscilla, who was always reluctant to admit that she had made a mistake; and disliked very much to be laughed at.
“Sometimes it is red mud,” suggested Jack mischievously. “Eh, Prissy?” drawing a feathery grass blade across the back of her neck as she sat in front of him sorting shells and stones.
The children had gathered a bushel or more of beach treasures that they “simply must take with them,” but Jack had decreed that only one small box could be incorporated in their luggage.
“I thought it best to get back to Wolfville as soon as possible,” explained her brother seriously when she did not respond to his good-natured teasing. “It’s not so very warm now nights.”
“What about the ox?” asked Desiré.
“A friend of the doctor’s, in fact the man who came out here after Dolly, has lost one of his—”
“Lost!” exclaimed Priscilla disdainfully. “How on earth could one lose an ox?”
“The way we nearly lost Dolly,” replied Jack briefly, before continuing his explanation to Desiré. “And naturally he wants to buy a perfect match for the remaining one. He has been around the nearby country, but for some reason—I believe his wife is ill, or something like that—he can’t go far to hunt one up. So the doctor is helping him, and he thought I might just happen to see one on the way to Halifax.”
“How would you know if you did?” demanded Priscilla, with some scorn, still annoyed at having to abandon so many of her marine souvenirs.
“Dr. Myers took me to examine the surviving animal, and I looked him over closely and wrote down a description besides.”
“Read it to us, Jack,” suggested Desiré; “and then we can all be on the watch.”
So Jack read his notes, and when they went to bed they were all hopeful of finding the required animal on their trip back to Halifax.
A couple of days later they were driving along the edge of St. Margaret’s Bay, when Desiré clutched Jack’s arm.
“Look!” she cried.
“Where, and at what?”
“Away over there, in the far corner of that field. Aren’t those oxen? And so many of them.”
Jack stopped the horses and stood up, shading his eyes with his hand.
“Yes, I think they are.”
“Hadn’t you better go and look at them—that is, if they are for sale?”
“Suppose I had, but I wonder how one gets there.”
“There must be a road.”
“I’ll go and see,” offered Priscilla.
“Me too,” chirped René.
“No,” said Jack, “we’ll drive on a bit first.”
A little farther on, a narrow road led far back in the direction of the field in which the oxen were located, and from that side, farm buildings could be seen.
“I don’t believe I’ll try to take the wagon in there,” decided Jack, surveying the road doubtfully.
“You might make a sale,” suggested Priscilla, always with an eye for business.
“And break an axle in one of those holes. No, I’ll walk.”
The children clamored to go too, but Jack refused all company; so they watched him pick his way carefully along until he reached the end of the road which evidently terminated in a barnyard. It was tiresome waiting; so Desiré let the children get out to gather some cat tails which were growing along the edge of a tiny roadside stream.
They were so busy that Jack was right upon them before they were aware of his approach.
“Guess I’ve found what we’re looking for,” he announced jubilantly when he came within earshot.
“Really, Jack!” cried Desiré, almost falling off the seat of the wagon in her excitement, while the children threw themselves on him, flinging the cat tails far and wide.
“As far as I can see, he’s a perfect match. The man raises them for sale. I gave him the doctor’s address, and he promised to get in touch with him at once. However, I’ll write a letter too, and mail it in the first town we come to.”
“Isn’t it nice,” said Desiré, when they were once more on their way, “that you were able to do something for the doctor in return for his kindness to you?”
“Yes; and do you know, Dissy, people have been most awfully kind to us all summer.”
“They surely have. I never dreamed we’d make so many friends.”
“Huh!” said Priscilla bluntly; “some of them weren’t very nice. Those folks in Halifax were just horrid!”
“Hush!” ordered Desiré severely; for she had never repeated to Jack her unpleasant experiences in that city.
Jack looked searchingly at her flushed face, but said nothing more about it until they were alone that evening; then he insisted on hearing the whole story.
“Never again!” he decreed, “shall you or Prissy try to sell things on the street.”
“But we’re all peddlers, Jack dear; you can’t get away from that fact.”
“Dissy,” said her brother, smiling, “you’ll get to be as much of an arguer as Prissy if you’re not careful.”
Halifax was wrapped in a chilly grey fog when the Wistmores drove in a couple of days later. The monotonous tones of the bell buoy in the harbor sounded continuously through the city, and buildings and pavements dripped with moisture.
“Guess