must look out for the little shop the man told us about,” remarked Priscilla, to whom the scenery meant very little.
“Well, you watch for it, Prissy,” directed Jack. Then, turning to Desiré, “Didn’t we get a royal welcome in Sissiboo?”
“Yes; in spite of their disapproval, our old friends were wonderful to us; between the sales we made, and their generous donations, we certainly fared well.”
“Oh, Jack, there’s a bus!” cried Desiré delightedly a few minutes later. A big blue monster bore down upon them, and they had a glimpse of well-dressed people through its windows; then it was gone in a cloud of dust.
“Must be coming from the hotel,” commented her brother. “I understand there’s a big one up here somewhere above the town.”
“I’d love to ride in one of those,” said Priscilla, gazing longingly down the road after the now distant bus. “Wouldn’t you, Desiré?”
“Yes, I should. Perhaps some time we’ll be able to, but not now.”
They drove into the little town, and soon spied the shop of which they were in search.
“You go in and give the lady the message, Desiré,” said Jack, pulling up the team.
Desiré was inclined to be rather too retiring with strangers, and her brother thought she should begin to overcome her diffidence.
“Oh, Jack,” she cried, running out again a couple of minutes later, after delivering her message. “Who do you suppose keeps the shop? The lady who helped me find René on the steamer! It’s the most interesting place. Do come in and see it. She says we can look around as much as we wish.”
“I was going on for some more stock—we’re all out of crackers and a few other things—but you stay, if you wish; I’ll come back for you.”
“Don’t you need me?” she asked doubtfully.
“No; so look at as many things as you can before I get back.”
Desiré, with a happy “Thanks a lot,” ran back into the quaint little shop, while Jack drove on, thinking how sweet she was and how little time she had for herself or her own interests.
The morning was not a busy one at the shop; so the proprietress, a well-groomed New England woman, was free to devote her time to Desiré, to whom she had taken a fancy. Pleased to see that the girl was more interested in the pictures and books than in the foolish toys made to attract tourist trade, she took pains to call her attention to the best that the little store possessed.
“This is an interesting little account of the early history of this country and some of its settlers,” said Miss Robin, who was a teacher of history in one of the Boston schools, and whose mind naturally centered on her subject.
Desiré took the small blue-bound book in her hands and carefully turned its pages, reading bits here and there.
“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed aloud.
“What is it?” inquired Miss Robin, looking up from a pile of picture postcards she was putting in order.
“The story of our own ancestors is told here.”
Miss Robin came to look over her shoulder and read:
“In the year 1744 when the question of Acadian loyalty to England resulted in the Expulsion, Jean Godet with Marie, his wife, and Desiré, his little daughter, were driven as exiles from Wolfville to the States. They settled near Boston, and some years later Desiré married one John Wistmore, a descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins. When the Revolutionary War broke out, being loyal Royalists, they returned to Nova Scotia and took up farming in Wilmot, later removing to Sissiboo.”
“I have heard my father tell that same story so many, many times,” said Desiré, looking up at Miss Robin.
“They were really your ancestors, then?” asked that lady. “How very interesting.”
“But this last part he never told us,” continued the girl, indicating the closing words of the article.
“The ruins of the old Godet house near Wolfville may still be seen; for the site was never occupied for any length of time after the family was deported.”
“You must look it up if you ever go to Wolfville,” said Miss Robin.
“Oh, yes, indeed. We expect to get up there some time before winter comes, and I’ll surely hunt for the place.”
“Keep the little book,” urged Miss Robin, when Desiré, catching sight of Jack, laid the volume on the counter; “and if you come back before I go home, stop and tell me what success you had.”
“Maybe,” began Desiré, then stopped abruptly—she’d keep that to herself; so she merely thanked Miss Robin warmly, and ran out to the wagon.
“I thought we’d have dinner at one of the little restaurants here,” said Jack, after she had displayed her treasure, “and then push on.”
From the counter of the lunchroom which they selected, they could see the long government pier with the lighthouse at the end; and beside it was moored one of the steamers which cross the Bay of Fundy to St. John, New Brunswick. René was greatly disappointed because they were not going aboard.
“The child’s passion for boats is rivaled only by his passion for Indians,” observed Desiré, as they left the lunchroom.
“He’ll see plenty of the latter at Bear River.”
Desiré looked questioningly at her brother.
“That is,” he replied, “if we get there in time for the Cherry Festival, day after tomorrow.”
“Oh, Jack, can we?”
“Going to try hard to make it.”
Clouds had been slowly gathering since noon, and about five o’clock great drops of rain hit the dusty road with little “plops.”
“Big drops; won’t last long,” prophesied Desiré; but Jack let down the curtains at the side of the seat, and drew out a rubber blanket to spread over their laps. Before they had covered two miles, the rain was coming down in earnest, and Jack turned off the road into the pine woods.
“Wonder if we can keep dry here,” he said, half to himself. “Can’t possibly get to the next town tonight.”
“We’ll have supper right away before the rain begins to come through the trees,” decided Desiré, jumping out.
The pine-covered ground was still dry, and it was very cosy under the thick boughs of the tall trees. The persistent patter of the rain and the murmuring of a brisk little breeze in the tree tops added to their sense of comfort and security.
“If it doesn’t rain any harder than this, we should be able to manage pretty well,” said Desiré encouragingly, as Jack peered anxiously skyward every little while.
Conversation turned upon the book Miss Robin had
