'You unreasonable papa, to expect as fine fruit as in a hothouse or sunny French vineyard. I really see no reason why we Canadians should not have regular vineyards some day, and you would see how our little grapes must improve under cultivation. Perhaps we might make wine. Now, you dear clever papa, just turn your attention to that, and earn for yourself the sobriquet of national benefactor.'
Clinging to his arm as they walked, she chattered her best to amuse the sombre mind, so lately uprooted from old habits and ways of life into a mode of existence more or less distasteful. The birds aided her effort with a variety of foreign music. Woodpigeon, bobolink, bluebird, oriole, cooed and trilled and warbled from the bush all around. The black squirrel, fat, sleek, jolly with good living of summer fruits, scampered about the boughs with erect shaggy tail, looking a very caricature upon care, as he stowed away hazel-nuts for the frosty future. Already the trees had donned their autumn coats of many colours; and the beauteous maple-leaves, matchless in outline as in hue, began to turn crimson and gold. The moody man yielded to the sweet influences of nature in a degree, and acknowledged that even this exile land could be enjoyable.
Arriving at the snake fences of Armytage's farm, he said he would go down to the post at the 'Corner' for letters, and call in an hour for Linda on his return. She found Edith and Jay working hard as usual. Their employment to-day was the very prosaic one of digging potatoes. 'What horrid occupation for a lady!' exclaims somebody. Yes; Miss Armytage would have much preferred an afternoon spent in painting flowers, for which she had a talent. But there was no help for such manual labour in this case. Don't you imagine her pride suffered before she took part in field work? I think so, by the deep blush that suffused her face when she saw the visitor coming along, though it was only Linda Wynn, who made some not very complimentary reflections on the father and brother whose absence on an amusing expedition permitted this,—whose general indolence compelled severe labour from the girls. They were misplaced men, certainly, and had as much business in the bush, with their tastes and habits, and want of self-control, as Zack Bunting would have had in an English drawing-room.
Linda had been thinking over a plan, which, when uttered, was proved to have also suggested itself to her friend. Could not something be done in the way of a Sunday-school class for the miserable ignorant children at the 'Corner'? Now the very rudiments of revealed religion were unknown to them; and to spend an hour or two on the vacant Sabbath in trying to teach them some of Heaven's lore, seemed as if it might be the germ of great good. Miss Armytage, naturally not of Linda's buoyant disposition, foresaw abundance of difficulties,—the indifference or opposition of parents, the total want of discipline or habits of thought among the young themselves. Still, it was worth trying; if only a single childish soul should be illuminated with the light of life to all eternity by this means, oh, how inestimably worth trying!
Mr. Wynn was seen coming up the clearing. 'I know papa has had a letter,' exclaimed Linda, 'and that it is a pleasant one, by his pleasant face. Confess now, Edith, isn't he the handsomest man you ever saw?'
Her friend laughed at the daughterly enthusiasm, but could have answered in the affirmative, as she looked at his stately grey-crowned figure and handsome features, lighted with a grave, kind smile, as Linda took possession of his left arm—to be nearer his heart, she said. She was not very long in coaxing from him the blue official letter which contained his appointment to the magistracy of the district, about which he pretended not to be a bit pleased.
'And there's some other piece of nonsense in that,' said he, taking out a second blue envelope, and addressed to Arthur Wynn, Esquire.
'"Adjutant-General's Office,"' read Linda, from the corner. 'His appointment to the militia, I am sure. That good, powerful Mr. Holt!' Even at the name she coloured a little. 'He said that he would try and have this done. And I am so glad you are taking your proper footing in the colony, papa. Of course they should make you a magistrate. I should like to know who has the dignified presence, or will uphold the majesty of the law, as well as you?'
'Magistracy and militia—very different in this mushroom society from what they are in the old country,' said Mr. Wynn despairingly.
'Well, papa, I have ambition enough to prefer being chief fungus among the mushrooms, instead of least among any other class. Don't you know how poverty is looked down upon at home? Here we are valued for ourselves, not for our money. See how all the neighbourhood looks up to Mr. Wynn of Cedar Creek. You are lord-lieutenant of the county, without his commission: these men feel the influence of superior education and abilities and knowledge.'