I’ll see old Simon again!” boasted the small boy; “and go on a big boat—and—and—everything,” determined not to be outdone.
The older ones smiled as they went about closing up the cabin. They walked as far as the judge’s; and although there was no one to see her, Priscilla felt very important carrying the suitcase which held her wardrobe. There was no chance for prolonged farewells; for when they reached their destination it was so nearly time for school that Priscilla could give them only a hasty hug and kiss apiece, before dashing down a side road toward the schoolhouse.
CHAPTER XXIV
BACK TO YARMOUTH
“I meant to give her a few directions,” said Jack, picking up the suitcase she had dropped at his feet, and gazing after the child.
“We had a long talk last night after I went to bed,” replied Desiré; “and I think she will do just as we should like to have her. Prissy is growing up a bit, Jack; she really tried to be brave and generous about being left behind on this trip.”
When they were ready to start, the judge and his housekeeper stood on the steps to bid them goodbye and good luck.
“Don’t feel that you’ve got to hurry back,” called Judge Herbine as the horses started. “We’ll take good care of the little girl, and keep an eye on the cabin. Won’t hurt you to have a bit of a vacation.”
“I’ve gotten awfully fond of him; haven’t you, Jack?” asked Desiré, looking back to wave her hand at the judge.
“Yes; he’s a fine old fellow.”
After they had been riding an hour or two, René demanded suddenly—“When are we goin’ to sell somethin’?”
“Not going to,” replied Jack briefly.
“You see,” explained Desiré, “if we stopped every little while it would take too long to get to Yarmouth; and Jack is in a hurry.”
“I really should have started before, I suppose,” remarked her brother; “but I was afraid the roads might be in poor condition. Besides, it would have been too cool and damp for camping, and I didn’t want to give up the job until I had to.”
“You’n me goin’ to sleep in the tent again?” inquired René, poking the roll of canvas.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad. I like tents better’n houses.”
“You wouldn’t in the winter,” laughed Desiré. “I’ll miss Prissy. The wagon will seem big for me after last year.”
“Are we goin’ to give Simon the horses and wagon?” inquired René in alarm, a new thought suddenly occurring to him.
“We’re going to give them back to him,” said Jack. “They belong to him, you know. He only lent them to us.”
“Oh! Oh! But I never can walk all the way back again,” he wailed.
“Stop crying,” ordered Jack; “and you won’t have to walk all the way back. You cry altogether too much. You’re getting to be too big a boy to act like a baby; you must learn to act like a man.”
“We’re going back on the train, darling,” said Desiré softly. Somehow she liked to think of René as a baby rather than as a “man.”
“On a train!” squealed René. “I’m awful glad I came.”
The weather stayed pleasant, and no accidents of any kind befell the Wistmores on their journey to Yarmouth; it seemed strangely uneventful by contrast with the trip up the preceding summer. They had decided that it was best to forego the pleasure of calling on old friends, even those in Sissiboo, and get on to Yarmouth just as quickly as possible. It was after dark when they passed their old home. René was asleep, and Jack and Desiré gazed at the familiar outlines in silence. The windows showed squares of yellow light, and a few sparks floated out of the chimney. Those were the only signs of life about the place; in fact the whole town was deserted. All the people seemed to have withdrawn to their homes for the night.
Shortly before noon one warm day they stopped in front of Mrs. Chaisson’s house in Yarmouth. Before they had a chance to get out, old Simon himself came hurrying out from the back yard.
“I knew it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, throwing open the gate. “As soon as ever I heard hoofs on the street, I says to myself, ‘There’s Dolly and Dapple.’ How are ye all?”
He stopped to speak affectionately to the horses, who responded in their own fashion to his advances; and then he called his daughter.
“Matty!” he shouted. “Here’s the Wistmores.”
Mrs. Chaisson hurried out and greeted them warmly, inquiring for Priscilla whom she missed at once.
After embraces and explanations, Mrs. Chaisson invited them all to “come right in to dinner,” adding that she must have felt they were on the way, for she cooked more than usual.
After several days of camp fare, the meal tasted delicious to the hungry travelers, and they spent a long time at the table.
“You’ll stay here, of course, while you’re in town,” said Mrs. Chaisson decidedly.
“It’s most awfully kind of you,” began Jack, “but it really seems too much—”
“Nonsense! There were four of you last time, and we had lots of fun. Didn’t we, René? And now we’ve got a dog for you to play with. Run out in the back yard and make friends with Rex.”
The child departed joyfully; old Simon and Jack withdrew to the porch to talk over the year’s sales, and Desiré helped with the dinner work.
That evening after René had been put to bed—Mrs. Chaisson had decreed the season too early for sleeping on the porch, and had placed a cot in one corner of old Simon’s room for the little boy—the rest of them gathered around the air tight stove in the sitting room. The evenings were likely to be cool, and even Rex crept in to lie at their feet and enjoy the welcome heat of a wood fire.
“Matty,” began her father, “I was tellin’ the young feller,” laying his hand on Jack’s knee as he spoke, “he’d better stay on here until after the lobsters are in.”
“A good idea, if he doesn’t need to hurry back,” agreed Mrs. Chaisson, picking up her sewing.
“You see,” went on the old man, turning to Desiré, “there’s quite a bit of profit in lobsters, and the boy says he has nothin’ in sight for the present; so why not pick up a few dollars?”
She did not know how to reply on the spur of the moment, and looked at Jack for inspiration.
“I don’t know a thing about the business,” said the boy slowly.
“Huh! I can teach ye all ye need to know in half a day,” declared the old man.
“Yes, indeed. Father’s a good hand at it, or was before he got the rheumatism,” said his daughter, biting off her thread.
“Now
