Desiré quickly. “How could you think such a thing?”
“I hated to do it, especially since I knew it hurt you so much; but he really needed a lesson. We couldn’t risk that sort of thing happening again; it might not turn out so pleasantly another time.”
“I know you do your best for all of us, dear,” she said, laying her head against his arm for a moment; “and don’t worry so much about what we may or may not think about what you do.”
On blankets laid on the ground, Jack and Desiré slept much of the afternoon, while the children played all kinds of games with the turtle.
All the morning the young Wistmores had been driving along roads bordered on either side by hundreds of apple trees. In the valley between the North Mountain on the Bay of Fundy side, and the South Mountain, there are seventy-five miles of orchards where are grown some of the choicest varieties of apples, many barrels of which are shipped to the United States every year.
“This is the most celebrated apple district in the world,” commented Jack.
“How gorgeous the trees must look when they are covered with blossoms,” Desiré remarked. “I think apple trees in bloom are among the most beautiful things in the world.”
“The whole section is famous,” continued Jack. “The first ships built on the American continent were launched down here on the Annapolis River; and on Allen’s Creek, which flows along one side of the fort, the first mill was put up. That was in the days of Champlain.”
They reached Annapolis Royal by this time, and Jack drove up the hills to see the remains of the fort, and point out the items of interest to the members of his family.
“Champlain sailed up the Bay of Fundy,” he said, motioning toward that body of water, “and when he saw the little inlet down there, entered by means of it, into that broad calm body of water called Annapolis Basin. The tree-covered sides of the hills which you see sloping gently to the water’s edge were dotted with lively waterfalls, and he thought it a fine place for a settlement.
“In those days,” he continued, turning toward René, “Great Beaver, who was an enemy of Glooscap, lived in Annapolis Basin with his best friend, a wolf. Now the wolf liked to sail, and Great Beaver made a big raft for him so he could go back and forth across the water. One day Mr. Wolf was lying on the top of North Mountain, resting after his sail, and he saw the Bay of Fundy. Right down to the Great Beaver he rushed, and asked him to dig a canal between the two bodies of water in order that he might have more room for his raft. Great Beaver didn’t like salt water; so he refused to spoil his own home by letting in the tide from Fundy. Clever Mr. Wolf, who knew that Glooscap and the Beaver were not good friends, went secretly to Glooscap and asked him to join the two pieces of water. Glooscap sent the lightning to split open the North Mountain, and through the narrow opening Mr. Wolf sailed gaily back and forth between the Bay of Fundy and Annapolis Basin.”
“And what became of the poor Beaver?” asked Priscilla.
“Oh, he had to go and build a new home in the Basin of Minas.”
“Poor Beaver,” commented René, adding, “Jack, where is Glooscap now?”
“He became angry at the number of white men coming to take possession of the land; so he called a big whale to carry him away to some far-off shore. The Indians think, though, that some day he will come back.”
“Oh, I wish he would,” cried the little boy; “I wish he would right now, so’s I could see him.”
Going down the hill, they reached the shores of the Basin in time to see the tide come in. Great masses of blue, green and silver water rushed in the Gap to fill to overflowing the Basin and all its tributary streams.
“What a wonderful sight!” exclaimed Desiré.
“I should think the Wolf would have been drowned,” observed René, watching the flood of water, his eyes open very wide.
“Why, he’d go up on the mountain and watch it, not stay in it,” said Priscilla in such a scornful tone that Jack and Desiré smiled.
Several days later, they had passed through many little towns and stopped in front of many an isolated house where they disposed of many or few of their wares. The dooryards were gay with flowers, now; for no one was too poor or too lazy to have a garden. Sometimes these gardens were elaborate in shape, and of fair size, with colors and varieties blended beautifully; sometimes only a clump of cheerful red or golden nasturtiums, clustering around a stump or unsightly rock.
“Just look at that field!” exclaimed Desiré, suddenly.
“What’s the matter with it?” inquired Jack.
“It’s just red with strawberries!”
“Oh, let’s get out and pick some,” proposed Priscilla.
“Don’t you think we might be able to sell them in the next town if we gathered enough?” Desiré asked Jack.
“Perhaps. There is a hotel, and lots of boarding houses in Kentville; so I’m told.”
They left the horses to graze in the shade of some trees, and the whole family, armed with various sized dishes, scattered over the field. After a couple of hours’ steady work, they transferred the berries to a basket, covered them with leaves, and continued on their way.
“Who’s going to sell them?” questioned Jack, when they were nearly to Kentville.
“Never thought of that,” confessed Desiré.
“I will,” offered Priscilla. “Let me!”
“Me too,” chimed René. “I can sell berries fine.”
“You’re a bit young, Renny,” said Jack with a smile; then, turning to Priscilla, he said, “All right, if you want to.”
Desiré looked a bit surprised at his willingness; but Jack just drew the team up in front of one of the smaller boarding houses and suggested, “Try here.”
The little girl took the basket which he handed down to her, walked boldly up the path to the front door, and knocked. Through the screen door they heard an annoyed voice say—“Now, I’ve told you—Oh, what is it, child?”
A low conversation ensued, and Priscilla flew out to the wagon again, displaying proudly a couple of silver coins.
“She’ll take some any time, she says; and she knows other places where they would.”
“How would it be,” inquired Desiré thoughtfully as they went on, “if we took time for berry picking so long as they last; even if we don’t cover so much ground, it will be clear profit.”
“We could,” said Jack slowly; “and it would be better for us all to be out of the wagon for a while.”
“In that case,” asked Desiré, “hadn’t we better camp nearby, since we know we can find quantities of berries here, and Kentville is a pretty good market.”
Jack agreed.
A most delightful spot beside a noisy brook, just outside the town, was selected as a camp site; and for two whole
