day is spent in feasting and merry-making. If the groom can afford it, he then takes his bride to Yarmouth to spend a few days at the Grand Hotel. That is the greatest ambition of every rustic pair.
Jack talked on quietly about the house raising until he saw that his sister had recovered her composure. She was smiling bravely as he kissed her goodnight, but her sleep was broken by feverish dreams of the worn slip of paper, and a long journey.
When Jack returned at dusk the following evening, after a long day’s work on André’s house, he found Desiré waiting for him with sparkling eyes, flushed face, and such an air of repressed excitement that he wondered what had happened while he had been away.
It was necessary to wait until the children had gone to bed before he could question her. They had decided it was best to leave the younger ones out of discussions of ways and means. “Let them be carefree as long as they can,” Desiré had urged, and Jack had agreed.
“Who do you suppose was here today?” she asked, perching on the arm of his chair as soon as they were alone.
“Never could guess,” he replied, slipping his arm around her.
“Old Simon.”
“Starting his spring trip early, isn’t he?”
“Rather. I made him stay to dinner, and we talked and talked.”
Simon drove one of the big covered wagons which are common in Nova Scotia. They have double doors at the back, and are filled with all kinds of groceries and notions, a regular general store on wheels. Many parts of the country are so thinly settled that it would be impossible for people to obtain certain supplies without the existence of these interesting wagons. Some of them specialize in certain things, like ready-to-wear clothing, but most of them carry a little of everything.
“Did he have anything interesting to tell?”
The proprietors of these odd stores act as relayers of bits of news, as well as merchandise, and often bear messages from one part of the peninsula to the other.
“Why—why—I don’t—really know,” faltered Desiré.
“Don’t know?” repeated her brother, turning to look at her in surprise; for although she dearly loved her home, she was always eager for contacts with the outside world.
“Well, you see, we talked business all the time.”
“Business?” he queried, more and more puzzled.
“Yes. Oh, Jack, let us get a wagon!”
“Desiré, you must be crazy!” he exclaimed, startled out of his usual calm of manner and speech.
“No, I’m not really. Just listen a minute,” telling off the points on her fingers. “We’d be all together. We’d be earning an honest living, and having a lot of fun, and seeing places; and it’s healthful to be out-of-doors, a lot; and—” she paused for breath.
“But, Dissy,” protested her brother gently, “we couldn’t live in the wagon.”
“Oh, yes, we could.”
“All of us? Day and night?” asked the boy, troubled at this odd notion that had evidently so strongly taken possession of his hitherto sensible sister.
“We could have a little tent for you and René at night. Prissy and I could easily sleep in the wagon. It would be no different from camping, Jack; and lots of people do that.”
“What about winter?”
“Well, of course we couldn’t live that way after it gets real cold, but winter’s a long way off. Maybe we’d make enough by then to rent a couple of rooms in some central place and take just day trips. Or perhaps we’ll find out what that paper means, and have—who knows what?”
Jack shook his head.
“Seriously, Desiré, I don’t see how we can make a living from a traveling store. Simon does, of course; but there is only one of him, and four of us.”
“But,” resumed the girl, after a short pause, “we have no place to go if Nicolas forecloses; we don’t know how else to support ourselves; so wouldn’t traveling around the country all summer give us a chance to see all kinds of places and people? Mightn’t we get in touch with possibilities for the future? Our living expenses would be small; for we could gather wild things to eat—”
“A few bears, or owls, I suppose,” laughed her brother.
“No, silly! Berries, and—and grapes, and things.”
“Heavy diet.”
“And fish,” concluded Desiré triumphantly.
“Another thing,” continued Jack, resuming his gravity, “you wouldn’t want to spoil old Simon’s route by taking some of his customers.”
“Of course not, but there certainly must be sections where there is no traveling store. We could take one of those.”
Just then a heavy knock on the front door startled them both.
CHAPTER III
TWO CALLERS
When Jack opened the door, Nicolas Bouchard stood frowning before him.
“Oh, come in, Nicolas,” he urged hospitably.
“Can’t; it’s too late; but saw you were still up, and wanted to tell you that I just had a message from Yves and he wants to take possession of this place at once. Think you could be out by this day week?”
“How do you know we aren’t going to pay off the mortgage?” flashed Desiré, annoyed at the man for taking things so for granted.
Nicolas gave a grunt. “What with? Don’t get mad. We all know you haven’t got any money. Glad to have you pay if you could, for you’ve always been good neighbors; but a man’s got to take care of his pennies. They’re not so plentiful now as they were when I took that mortgage.”
“Certainly, Nicolas,” said Jack, quietly laying a restraining hand on Desiré’s arm. “You may have the house a week from today.”
The man lingered rather awkwardly.
“Felice said she’d be willing to keep the two little ones, so as you and this girl could go to Boston, and find work—”
Desiré started to speak, but Jack’s hold on her arm tightened.
“They pay good wages there, I’m told,” the man went on. “Or, if you could find some place for the rest, Yves said he’d be glad to have you stay on here and help him farm.”
“We are indeed grateful for the kindness of our friends,” replied Jack; “but we have decided that we must all stick together, some way.”
Nicolas turned without another word, and strode down the shell-bordered path to the road, and Jack closed the door. In silent dismay the brother and sister faced each other; then the girl’s courage reasserted itself.
“Never
