"And so, auntie, since you can't transform me, you have abased me utterly. I humbly beg your pardon from the very dust, and lay my poor bruised offering at your indignant feet. I thought the coach and six was coming over me, I did indeed!" exclaimed Wilfred.
"Get up" reiterated Aunt Miriam angrily, her vexation heightened by the burst of laughter which greeted her ears from the open door, where the stranger now stood shaking with merriment at the ridiculous scene.
"Yes, off with you, you young beggar!" he repeated, stepping aside good-naturedly to let Wilfred pass. For what could a fellow do but go in such disastrous circumstances?
"It is not to be expected that the missis will put up with this sort of game," remarked Pêtre Fleurie, as he passed him.
Wilfred began to think it better to forego his breakfast than face his indignant aunt. What did she care for the handful of weeds? The mud he had gone through to get them had caused all the mischief. Everywhere else the ground was dry and crisp with the morning frost. "What an unlucky dog I am!" thought Wilfred dolefully. "Haven't I made a bad beginning, and I never meant to." He crept under the orchard railing to hide himself in his repentance and keep out of everybody's way.
But it was not the weather for standing still, and he longed for something to do. He took to running in and out amongst the now almost leafless fruit-trees to keep himself warm.
Forgill, who was at work in the court putting the meat-stage in order, looked down into the orchard from the top of the ladder on which he was mounted, and called to Wilfred to come and help him.
It was a very busy time on the farm. Marley, the other labourer, who was Forgill's chum in the little hut in the corner, was away in the prairie looking up the cows, which had been turned loose in the early summer to get their own living, and must now be brought in and comfortably housed for the winter. Forgill had been away nearly a fortnight. Hands were short on the farm now the poor old master was laid aside. There was land to be sold all round them; but at present it was unoccupied, and the nearest settler was dozens of miles away. Their only neighbours were the roving hunters, who had no settled home, but wandered about like gipsies, living entirely by the chase and selling furs. They were partly descended from the old French settlers, and partly Indians. They were a careless, light-hearted, dashing set of fellows, who made plenty of money when skins were dear, and spent it almost as fast as it came. Uncle Caleb thought it prudent to keep on friendly terms with these roving neighbours, who were always ready to give him occasional help, as they were always well paid for it.
"There is one of these hunter fellows here now," said Forgill. "The missis is arranging with him to help me to get in the supply of meat for the winter."
The stage at which Forgill was hammering resembled the framework of a very high, long, narrow table, with four tall fir poles for its legs. Here the meat was to be laid, high up above the reach of the many animals, wild and tame. It would soon be frozen through and through as hard as a stone, and keep quite good until the spring thaws set in.