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 of wild flowers; rivers, down whose red mud banks still trickled threads of water, although the tide was out; grey farm buildings; all flowed rapidly past. Then—Yarmouth!
“Stay right here,” directed Jack, after they had alighted from the train, leading the way to a pile of crates on the platform, “until I check our baggage. I thought we’d keep only the night bag, and pick up the rest after we get the wagon.”
Before the children had tired of watching the passers-by, he was back again, and they walked slowly toward the centre of the city, not pausing until they reached the tiny park facing the wharf.
“You and the children had better sit here while I go to find out the location of the street where Simon’s daughter lives.”
“Is that the Grand Hotel, where André brought Marie after the wedding?” asked Priscilla, looking up in admiration at the big building across the street.
“Yes,” replied Jack.
“Just think!” cried the child ecstatically, giving a little skip, “I’m really looking at the place I’ve heard of so many times.”
“Well, your education has begun,” said Jack. “See that you make the most of all your opportunities.”
“What a very funny place,” observed Priscilla, looking around her.
“It is a park—” began Desiré.
“But look at those,” interrupted the younger girl, pointing to several graves.
“It must have been used as a cemetery first,” replied her sister, walking over to read the inscription on a nearby stone, and closely followed by Priscilla. That moment or two gave René the chance for which he had longed, and he was off down the road and onto the wharf. Desiré turned to look for him just in time to see a little blue-clad figure dart across the gang plank of the Boston steamer.
“René!” she called in desperation, racing toward the dock.
The tug which helped the steamer pull away from her slip was already out in the harbor; bells were ringing, the whistle was blowing, dock hands were running about. Across the gang plank ran Desiré and Priscilla just before it was withdrawn, and the ropes were cast off. As they looked helplessly among the crowds of people and piles of luggage for the truant, the tug was steadily pulling on the long tow line, and heading the steamer out to sea.
“My—little—brother,” gasped Desiré to an officer.
