around, heating bottles, and preparing broth. The trusty Ford never made such good time as it did going down to the cabin and back. The snow flew in all directions as the judge forced the machine through it. Desiré, worn and terrified by her night of fruitless watching, almost fainted when the judge appeared and told her his story. Jack’s needs, however, forced her to make a desperate effort to be calm. In a very short time the judge deposited her and the two children on his own doorstep.
“We’ve plenty of room,” he decreed, “and you must all stay here until the boy’s well.”
“He’s asleep now, my dear,” was Madam Lovemore’s greeting as she kissed Desiré in the hall. “The doctor’s been here; and while he’s not positive, yet he thinks it’s just a heavy cold.”
All the hours of waiting, the anxiety, the shock, resulted in one wild burst of tears when Desiré peered in at Jack, sleeping heavily, his face red, his lips drawn in tense lines. Madam Lovemore led her hastily into a room on the opposite side of the hall, and closed the door. Sitting down in a big rocker, she drew the girl into her lap as if she had been René, and let her cry.
“I’m—sorry—” gasped Desiré presently.
“It’s only natural, you poor little girl. Have your cry out, and you’ll feel lots better. Then we’ll make some plans.”
Jack slept most of the day, waking once to smile feebly at Desiré who was bending over him. She could not trust herself to speak, and only kissed him tenderly.
Under the care of good Dr. Caronne, and with the help of the delicious, nourishing foods prepared by Madam Lovemore, and the combined nursing of the entire household, Jack escaped the flu. After a couple of days he was able to get up, and a week later the Wistmores returned to their own home; and Jack went back to work.
“We can never, never hope to repay what they have done for us,” said Jack gravely, when they were talking of the kindness of their host and hostess that night. “You children must remember that, and do everything you can for them, every little thing.”
“I will,” announced René solemnly. “I’m goin’ to marry Mad’m Lovemore when I grow up.”
“I’m sure,” said Jack, “that would be a wonderful way to repay her.”
During the rest of the winter Jack used snowshoes for delivering the mail, and Desiré was so fascinated by them that she learned to use her brother’s when he did not need them. One day when he came from Windsor he brought her a pair, and suggested that whenever he went on short trips, she accompany him. She was delighted, and quite often after that she left René at the judge’s, and went skimming over the snow with her beloved brother, dearer now than ever after the fear of losing him.
“It’s so mild out that I shouldn’t be surprised if we had rain,” announced Jack, when he came in from his day’s work one night late in the winter.
“Rain!” exclaimed Priscilla. “Why, it’s still winter.”
However, Jack proved to be a good weather prophet; for when they woke up the following morning, rain was falling steadily, and the snow looked soft and dirty. That was the beginning of the break-up of winter. Each day the sun rose higher and its rays became warmer; and each day more of the snow melted, softening the ground and filling streams, large and small, to the very brim.
The winds were softer and warmer; the birds returned and began looking for home sites; and the air was alive with their calls. From the new green of the marshes came the continuous croaking of frogs. Then the first wild flowers slipped quietly into bloom; the fruit trees pushed out bud after bud until they were covered with fragrant blossoms. Nova Scotia had come to active life again after the hard winter.
The day Priscilla brought in a cluster of arbutus, there was a general rejoicing. The delicate pink blossom is greatly prized by the people of Nova Scotia, and has been made the national flower.
“The darlings!” cried Desiré, holding the tiny flowers close to her nose in order to inhale their dainty fragrance.
“Up in the woods of Prince Edward Island the Indians will be very busy now that the Mayflower—for that is the other name for arbutus—has come,” observed Jack.
“Why?” asked Priscilla, putting her bouquet carefully in water.
“As soon as the flowers appear, the young Indian braves search carefully for the finest specimens they can find to throw at the woman they want to marry. It is one of their regular customs; so you can imagine how excited the maidens are at this time of the year.”
“What a pretty custom,” said Desiré; but the practical, unromantic Priscilla thought it very funny, and so expressed herself as she placed the vase in the center of the table.
“And where are the Indians?” demanded René.
“Nowhere near here; so don’t go looking for them,” ordered his brother.
René looked very serious for a moment, and said that he wouldn’t. Apparently he had some none too pleasant recollections of one escapade in following Indians.
The apple orchards around Wolfville had begun to drop their sweet pink and white petals, and the countryside was streaked here and everywhere with the deep blue of the iris, the fleur-de-lys of France, when Jack commented to Desiré one night that they’d better take old Simon’s wagon back to him.
She laughed. “You did say we this time. When do you want to start?”
“Could you manage it by Monday?”
“This is Friday. Why, yes, I could. What will you do about your job while you’re gone?”
“It goes back to its regular owner,” replied Jack, trying to speak lightly; adding, as Desiré looked puzzled, “The old man can manage well enough in pleasant weather. I was only a helper for the winter months, you know. When we come back for the summer, if we decide to stay here, I’ll have to look for something else. I can probably get something either here or at Windsor. We’ll talk it over on the road.”
“Shall we take the children, or leave them with Madam Lovemore? When I mentioned one day our having to go to Yarmouth, she offered to keep them if we wished.”
“It would seem too much like imposing,” objected Jack; “she has been so very kind to us.”
“Yes,” admitted Desiré; “and yet I know she’s very willing.”
“One thing,” said Jack thoughtfully, “I hate to have Priscilla miss so many days of school, and she would have to if we took her. How would it do if we left her and took René? Do you think that would be a good idea?”
“Yes; I think that would be fine, and it would even things up better. Prissy can be quite a help to Madam Lovemore, while René always bears watching. I suppose Prissy won’t like being left behind, though.”
“Probably not; and it will seem queer to leave her. It will be the first time we’ve been separated since—”
“Yes,” said Desiré hurriedly, as Jack’s voice faltered; “but we know that she will be well cared for; and after we’re once gone, she’ll soon get used to the new conditions.”
So it was settled, and although
