Each day some fresh word was brought in as to the river's condition. "The River St. John is like a sick person, isn't it?" Dora said one afternoon. "The first thing every one says in the morning is, 'I wonder how the river is to-day.'"
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when Mr. Merrithew came in hastily, calling out:
"Come, people, if you want to see the ice go out. The jam by Vine Island is broken. Come quick. It's piling up finely!"
In a very few minutes the whole family answered to his summons, and they set out in great excitement to watch their dear river shake off its fetters. They made their way quickly to the wooden bridge, and found a good share of the population of Fredericton there assembled. It was truly a sight well worth going to see. Below the bridge the dark water was running swiftly, bearing blocks of ice, bits of board, and logs,—indeed, a fine medley of things. But above the bridge! Jackie clapped his hands with delight, as he watched the ice, pushed by the masses behind it, throw itself against the mighty stone piers, and break and fall back, while the bridge quivered afresh at each onslaught. It was truly grand to see, and they stayed watching it for more than an hour; stayed till Jackie began to shiver, and Mrs. Merrithew hurried them home.
By the next morning the river was rapidly clearing, so that some reckless spirits ventured to cross in boats and canoes, dodging the ice-cakes with skill worthy to be employed in a better cause. In a day or two more the deep whistle of the river-boat was heard; a sound that brings summer near, though not a leaf be on the trees. But it was not until the ice had entirely ceased running, and the river had begun to go down, that really warm weather could begin, for, until then, there was always a chill air from the water.
But after that,—ah, then spring came in earnest, with balmy airs and singing birds, pussy-willows, silver gray, beside the brooks, and little waterfalls laughing down the hills. Then came the greening fields, the trees throwing deeper shadows, and the Mayflowers, pink and pearly and perfect, hiding under their own leaves in damp woodland hollows! The children made many excursions to gather these fragrant blooms, and kept quantities of them in the Den until the season was over. It would be hard, Mrs. Merrithew thought, to find anything more lovely, and to show how thoroughly she appreciated their attention, she made for each child a little Mayflower picture in water-colours. In Marjorie's the flowers were in a large blue bowl, on a table covered with an old-blue cloth; for Jackie she painted them in a dainty shallow basket, just as he had brought them from the woods; and for Dora there was a shadowy green bit of the woodland itself, and a few of the braver blossoms just showing among leaves and moss.