"I'll just take you up to Captain Longville's," he said. "The Captain can manage."
The following morning Donelle found, upon going to the living room, that Alton had departed at daybreak.
"He wanted to see the sunrise on the river," Jo explained; "he took lunch enough to feed a dozen; fried chicken and doughnuts and pickles. He's the biggest pickle eater I ever saw," Jo laughed. Then added: "Donelle, I'm going to the village to-day with my linens. The man in the shop over there has offered a tidy sum for them. I don't think I can get back to-night. Molly acts like a colt, but her staying powers are nothing to boast of. You better go to Marcel——"
"But I hate to, Mamsey."
"Child, I'd rest easier——"
"Then I'll go, Mamsey. I'd even go to that dirty old Pierre's or to the Kelly's if you would rest easier, Mamsey. Isn't life just like a book?"
"It is!" murmured Jo with conviction. "It certainly is wonderfully like a book."
After Jo had gone and Donelle had put the little house in order she closed the door and windows and whistled to Nick.
"Come on, you old dear," she said, "and how thankful I am you can't talk, Nick. You can look and thump your tail all you want to; no one understands that. Nick, when he gets back, he'll be tired. We'll be there to meet him. Come on, Nick!"
The sun was warm and bright, it filtered through the trees and reached the brave spring flowers showing in the moss and the rich, black earth.