CHAPTER XV
Pam’s Big Adventure
Never before had Pam realized how much one’s brother might be to one. Those first days of Jack’s coming to Ripple would have spelled unalloyed happiness for her had it not been for the trouble about her grandfather. It was of no use to tell herself that she knew the old man was not a thief, and that he would not have dreamed of robbing the man he had hurt so badly. The fear that he had done it in a moment of evil temper was always present with her to spoil her peace. She worried, too, as she thought of what his suffering must have been when he was outcast from his home. In spite of all that Jack and Sophy could say to the contrary, the fear was on her that the old man lay in the nameless grave where that little heap of bones found in the forest had been put.
Laughing and talking with Jack, labouring hard with him over the tasks to which they were both so unaccustomed, Pam found it easy to be happy and to put even the remembrance of the trouble away. It was in the nights, when sometimes she was too tired to sleep, that the burden of her care dropped upon her, and then she was as acutely miserable as it was possible for a healthy girl to be.
The poultry was increasing on her hands. One brood of chickens was safely hatched, and the ten downy, fluffy chicks threatened to be great time-wasters, they were so dear and so cunning. But Sophy reminded her that she was out to make the place pay, and the chicks were neither ornaments nor playthings, but just a detail of farm life; after which Pam hardened her heart and tore herself away to less congenial tasks. The pigs failed to rouse much enthusiasm in her. She was glad to resign the care of them to Jack, even though he was six months younger to farm life than she was, and ignorant in proportion. Yet in spite of this drawback he was showing uncommon wisdom, or perhaps it was adaptability, in looking after the animals. When a litter of young was born, he was as enthusiastic over it as Pam was over the chickens. He talked largely of going in for pig-breeding on a large scale, because, as he very truly said, people always wanted bacon for breakfast, so there would always be a market for his stuff.
Pam only laughed at him, and wrinkled her nose in a little grimace of disgust every time she came near his end of the barn. She was secretly delighted at the way in which he was taking hold of things and adapting himself to the new life. She had been afraid that he might hark back to city life, and want to be a clerk or something of that sort. The younger boys had never been so fond of books as Jack. She was slow in understanding that his love of books arose from the honest desire for information, and was not an indication of any wish for life in a city office.
When Jack had been at Ripple two weeks Sophy went home for a few days. She and her mother were going down river to Fredericton to buy the wedding frock, or, at least, the material for it. Nothing would suit Sophy but that she should make it herself, and as she was so expert with her needle, it would have been folly to pay another to do work that would bring exquisite pleasure to herself.
It was very strange at Ripple without her. Jack took his share of getting meals and in washing dishes, but all the same it was Pam who had to feel the great want. Sophy had been a comrade worth having. She had tact and sympathy, she never wanted to talk when Pam had a quiet fit, and she was so helpful in a quiet way that she had to go before it was possible to understand how useful she was.
With Sophy away, Pam found it necessary to be in the house more. When the morning “chores” were done, Jack went off most days to help Nathan Gittins, who was planting corn and potatoes in the fields of Mrs. Buckle, and also on the cleared land at Ripple. Reggie Furness, who did the “chores” for the Gittins’s place, was only a night and morning boy—that is to say, he had to go to school, and was only available out of school hours. Left so much to herself, Pam decided that it was a fine chance for turning the house upside down. She argued that if she did it thoroughly now, it would keep fairly tidy in the brief brilliant summer weather, when the outdoor work would be too pressing to allow much time for anything else.