“We’re going this afternoon, early, up to the lodge. Ned will take us. It is such a perfect spring day and I am wild to get into the woods. Can you go?”
“I don’t see why not, but I’ll ask Gradda.”
“You go along and get ready and I’ll ask her. Tell her I want to speak to her over the ’phone. Wear your rubbers and take a sweater, Joanne; it will be cool coming back.”
Fortunately it was Saturday and there would be a long afternoon before them, Joanne considered as she made her preparations. She had not been up to the farm since that winter day when they had gone for Christmas greens, and she longed to see Chico again; Pablo, too.
She rushed around gathering up rubbers and sweater which she thrust into the little bag which she carried to Claudia’s for her Friday night visits; it was just possible, she thought, that they might stay over night and it was as well to be prepared.
The journey over the familiar road was soon made. Silver of river, misty green of shores gladdened their way. An open fire was burning on the hearth at the lodge, Unc’ Aaron had seen to that; the little house, swept and garnished, looked none the worse for its silent wintering.
“We mustn’t lose any time,” said Mrs. Pattison. “While Ned is talking things over with Mr. Clover we’ll off to the woods to find arbutus. I know where there should be some.”
They climbed the high cliff behind the lodge, picking their way over the rough winding path, then down to a little glen the other side. Mrs. Pattison was the first to pounce upon a patch of the delicate waxen flowers hidden under their blanket of brown leaves.
“That’s yours by right of discovery,” declared Joanne. “I’ll go hunt for myself.”
“You must be on the watch for the green leaves peeping out of a cover of brown,” her cousin counseled her.