But spring snow is swift to go. The brown earth was showing, and a brisk but warm wind was blowing on the day when Pam went to borrow Mrs. Buckle’s ancient horse to drive to Hunt’s Crossing to meet Jack. It was amazing to Pam that the widow should be such a kind friend to her. Indeed, Mrs. Buckle’s attitude was something remarkable, seeing how her husband had met his death. But she had no strong prejudices, and common sense told her that Pam, the stranger, was in no way to blame for the long-standing animosity between the men who had quarrelled for so many years about the fence, which, in point of fact, made no difference to either.
“Can you spare the horse?” asked Pam, standing on the threshold of Mrs. Buckle’s little brown house, her feet with difficulty refraining from dancing, and her face wreathed in smiles. Such happiness she had not known since her feet had first pressed Canadian soil, and she was thinking of what Jack would say when he saw the house and the land at Ripple, for the keeping of which, for him and the others, she had borne so much.
“Why, yes, of course,” replied Mrs. Buckle with an answering smile. “It is not Sunday, so I don’t want to go to meeting, and there is nowhere else to go to in these benighted parts that I know of.”
“You might go to school.” Pam gurgled into happy laughter at her own small joke. It is so easy to find things to laugh about when one is happy.
“Well, well, of course. I had not thought of the school; I might go there. The youngsters would laugh, and nudge each other as we used to do in the old days, and they would wonder what Martha Buckle was up to. They would maybe want me to spell something, and oh, my word! where should I be then!” Mrs. Buckle leaned against the door-post and fairly rocked with laughter, while Pam laughed too, until Amanda came running from the out-place, where she had been washing the breakfast dishes, and joined in the merriment, although she had not the remotest idea what the others were laughing about.
Pam harnessed the horse herself, an accomplishment she had learned from Mrs. Buckle, and then she mounted the rickety old wagon and drove out on to the trail which led to Hunt’s Crossing. She had asked Sophy to come with her, but Sophy, with a rare understanding of what that meeting would mean to Pam, had pleaded too much work, at the same time pointing out to Pam what a heavy load they would be on the homeward journey—Jack and his baggage, Pam and herself. The ancient horse might well object to so much weight behind it, and Pam was fain to see that the excuse was reasonable. She was even glad, right down at the bottom of her heart, that she could be alone when she met her brother again.
The sun was very hot to-day, and the old horse was not disposed to move very fast. Pam got so tired of trying to get some pace out of the creature that she finally got out of the wagon and walked on ahead, with the lines over her arm. It was really pleasant walking too; the grass was fresh, flowers were springing on all sides, while over the forest was creeping a daily thickening veil of green. It was springtime, and the winter was past and gone!
“Hullo! How far is it to Ripple?” A lanky youth rose from a fallen log which lay by the side of the trail, and advanced upon Pam before she was aware of anyone being near at hand. One long look she gave him, and then she shrieked joyfully.
“Jack! Why, Jack, how enormously you have grown!” She cast the lines from her as she spoke, and rushing towards the youth hugged him rapturously.
“Pam, old girl, you are quite a beauty!” exclaimed Jack, holding her at arm’s length, and surveying her critically. “You always were pretty fair, as far as looks go, but now you are a peach, and a daisy, and everything else that is blooming!”