It was the last week in May. The fervid warmth of the spring sunshine had made the forest foliage a sight to see. The young and tender greens, freshened up by last night’s rain, were at their very best and most beautiful stage, there were flowers everywhere, and the ground was carpeted in places with a mosaic of colour.
“Why do people live in cities when the country is so beautiful?” demanded Pam in a tone of positive awe, as her gaze roamed over the open spaces and the vistas of green which stretched away on either side.
“People love their own species better than Nature,” answered Don, with the rare wisdom which sometimes characterizes quiet folk. “So they herd together, the closer the better, and find their happiness so. Half of them don’t need any pity, for they would be just miserable if they had to live alone with Nature.”
“I have never been in the woods in springtime before,” said Pam, who was drawing deep breaths of pure ecstasy. “Every day shows some new miracle, and I tell myself it was worth while enduring the winter to have the glory of the spring.”
Nathan Gittins had just come home from a long day of seeding at a little farm high up on the hills beyond the Ridge, where the winter lingered long and was very loath to go. Yet the high ground was astonishingly fertile, and responded more quickly to tillage than even the sheltered valleys, so the long journey and hard work were worth while. Only Nathan had not come home in the most amiable of tempers, for he missed Reggie at every turn, and he often had to get the food for the horses ready himself, after the long day afield, if Galena happened to be hard pressed indoors.
This was the case to-night. Don, who understood about such things, tied his horse to the hitching-post and went across to the barn to help, while Pam, quaking inwardly, betook herself indoors to do her errand with Galena.
Miss Gittins was on her dignity to-night. A deeply injured person she felt herself, and she showed it in every line of her body as she darted to and fro getting supper. But her manners were equal to the demand hospitality made upon them, and she pressed Pam to stay to supper with real cordiality, albeit she was excessively dignified, a pose that did not suit her because it was unnatural.
“I have had supper, thank you, and I could not eat anything more if I tried. I am very sorry, though, for your cookies do look most delightful. I can’t think how it is you do it; mine never come out so well.”
“It is use,” replied Galena. “I was doing that sort of thing when you were in your cradle, and I have been doing it ever since, while I suppose that you hardly saw a cooky until since you came to live at Ripple.”
“That is it, I suppose; and so I may expect to become proficient by the time I am grey-haired. Galena, why have you never been over to see that poor boy since his accident?” Pam fired her question at Galena with such disconcerting suddenness that she was too much taken aback to consider her reply, and so blurted out the plain, unvarnished truth.