Amy in Acadia Part 23

Both his language and his subjects of conversation were not what she would have expected from a grocer's boy, for that was what he called himself once or twice, and in the back of the wagon there was a large kerosene can, with one or two empty boxes, as well as some packages that certainly looked like groceries. But she did not waste much time in speculating, because she found so many things to ask that she had never thought to ask any one else before.

"Didn't realize that the first mill on the Continent was built at Annapolis?"--said her companion, "and you from Chicago, where people are supposed to think and dream about flour and grain? I am surprised. And you didn't know that Membertou, that old Indian, is reckoned the first convert made in America? Dear me, where have you been brought up?"

"Oh, I'm learning," responded Martine. "I'd never heard about the Acadians until we came down here. But now I think they're just great; don't you?"

"I should hardly call them great," returned the other, with a smile, "although there's any amount of interesting history connected with them; but I've always taken more interest myself in the early days of Port Royal than in the exile of the Acadians. I wish they'd change the name of Goat Island back to Biencourtville, for that's what it's called on Lescarbot's map."

"Oh," replied Martine, not knowing what else to say.

She knew nothing about Lescarbot and less about his map, but she didn't wish to display her ignorance.

"I remember Biencourt," she added meekly; "he had a very hard time, hadn't he?"

The face of the other brightened.

"Oh, I'm glad you remember him; he's my idea of a hero. I believe if he had lived Port Royal would have fared much better. Charles La Tour was not at all the same kind of man. But Madame La Tour, ah, she was the right sort! Perhaps you know her story."

"No," replied Martine, meekly, "I do not, but probably Amy does."

"Who is this paragon, this 'Amy'? You've spoken of her several times; she seems to know everything."

"I really think she does," replied Martine--"know almost everything. But I wish you could tell me about Madame La Tour."

"There won't be time now, but I could lend you a book, if you stay here longer. She doesn't exactly belong to Annapolis; it was the fort at the mouth of the St. John that she defended. But here we are fairly in the town, and you can consider yourself saved," he concluded with a smile.

"Why, there's Mrs. Airton's house!" exclaimed Martine in surprise; "I didn't know you were coming this way."

The boy looked at her curiously.

"Do you know Mrs. Airton?"

"Well, not exactly, for I was out when she called, but she was kind enough to ask me to tea to-day, only I thought I'd like to ride instead.

I thought that perhaps I'd be back in time for tea."

"You were right in that," rejoined her companion, pulling up his horse.

"I'm sure they're not through tea yet; I can leave you and take your horse on to the stable. Here, jump out."

But Martine hesitated, and for the moment she was annoyed at her rescuer. If Priscilla or Amy should look from a window, how mortifying it would be to be seen driving in a grocer's cart with a riderless steed tagging on behind.

"No, thank you," she said; "I would rather go on to my boarding-house; please drive on."

She never knew whether her new acquaintance would have heeded her request or not, for hardly had she spoken when from a side door Eunice Airton and Priscilla rushed toward the wagon.

"Where's Martine?" cried Priscilla, excitedly; "we recognized the horse."

"Oh, Balfour," began Eunice, "what--"

Without further ado Martine jumped down from the seat. The girls had approached the wagon from the rear, and at first had not seen her. Her sudden appearance surprised them. By this time Amy had reached the group.

"What happened?" and she looked on Martine for an explanation.

"Nothing, nothing," replied Martine, "only I was caught in the fog."

Amy laid her hand on Martine's arm.

"Your clothes are damp; you may take cold."

"Come into the house," added Eunice; "we are not yet through tea."

Martine saw that protest could not avail. As a matter of fact, she was not only cold but hungry, and the prospect of something to eat was one that she could not resist.

"You said that you might come to tea," remarked Amy, "and so Mrs. Airton will not be altogether surprised."

Had any one but Amy said this, Martine would have suspected her of sarcasm; but even if Amy would inwardly smile at her ignominious return, Martine could bear ridicule from her better than from any one else.

When Martine had replaced her waist with a drier one belonging to Eunice, Eunice led her to the dining-room, where the others had resumed their seats. Mrs. Redmond and Mrs. Airton made little comment on her misadventure, and never did hot biscuit, and strawberries, and chocolate, and cookies seem more appetizing to Martine than they did on this occasion. Later, when Amy and Priscilla were helping Eunice clear the table, Mrs. Airton sat down beside Martine.

"I am glad it was Balfour who found you," she said, "though I am sorry that he could not come in to tea with you. It is his night at the store, and he usually waits for his tea until late in the evening."

"Balfour?" asked Martine; "who is Balfour? Of course I know he drove me home, but who is he?"

"Balfour," replied Mrs. Airton, "why, Balfour is my son and Eunice's brother."

"Ah," cried Martine, "I did not realize that; now I understand."

But what she understood she did not then explain.

Not long after tea Mr. Frazer rushed excitedly into Mrs. Airton's sitting-room.

"I'm so glad the young lady's safe," he cried, "though indeed I thought she'd wait for me; but the sorrel led me a long chase, and when I got back to the farm she wasn't there. But I never thought of her going to the Bay Sh.o.r.e with the fog rolling in so thick, and when I found she wasn't at the house, I went back again to the farm, thinking she'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. At last I met some one who had seen her driving with Balfour; then I knew she was safe. So I must apologize again for the behavior of my sorrel, though it was all the fault of the bees."

Martine forgave the sorrel as readily as she forgave Mr. Frazer, for her adventure had ended so pleasantly that there was no occasion for blaming any one.

CHAPTER XIII

LETTERS AND SOME COMMENTS

"Do you realize that we have only a day or two longer in Annapolis?"

asked Amy, one soft afternoon in July, as she sat with Martine and Priscilla within the walls of the old fort.

Mrs. Redmond, seated some distance from them, was sketching a bit of far-off sh.o.r.e that came within her range of view. Martine had her hands folded idly in her lap, though the sketching-block and materials that lay beside her showed that at least she had made some pretence of work that day.

"Yes, I realize it all too well," she responded. "I wish we could stay here all summer."

"It has been so much pleasanter since we knew the Airtons that we shall find it very hard to go," added Priscilla.