“And here I was all the time,” giggled the child, wholly unconscious of having been the cause of great anxiety and effort. Along the shore, the next morning, as the Wistmores started out after parting reluctantly with the Riboux family, were hundreds of gulls looking for food, and the air was filled with their harsh croaking cries. Out on the blue waters floated others, at rest on the ripples. In the meadows herds of black and white cows wandered about, cropping the grass heavy with dew, their bells tinkling constantly as they sought for choicer tidbits. “Before we get to Saulnierville we make our first stop,” said Desiré, consulting the list she had taken from Jack’s pocket. “We’ll be there shortly.” “Oh, I hope we sell just lots of stuff!” cried Priscilla, who was quite herself again. “Yes, lots of stuff,” echoed René, grabbing Jack around the neck. “Don’t choke brother,” laughed Desiré, loosening the embracing arms. Before many minutes passed, they came in sight of a small grey house. An immense grey barn stood behind it, its double doors freshly painted a brilliant red. The farm was enclosed by a grey fence with double gates of pure white. “Why don’t the gates and the doors match, I wonder,” remarked Priscilla, who had an eye for color combinations. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” replied Jack, bringing the wagon to a stop before a path bordered with clam shells. The path led up to the front door, and another row of clam shells surrounded the house, which was built, like so many others in Nova Scotia, with overlapped shingles on one side and clapboards on the other three. “Let the youngsters run about a bit while I go in,” directed Jack, preparing to climb over the wheel. At this moment the sound of galloping horses on the road over which they had just come made everyone turn; and they saw another wagon, the counterpart of their own, swaying crazily from side to side as the driver urged on his excited animals. “Runaway!” squealed René delightedly. “They’ll hit us!” shrieked Priscilla.
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