"We haven't seen him," responded Amy, "but I sincerely hope that he is in the land of the living. I must have forgotten to tell you that mamma had a letter from him the day after our drive, telling us that he had been suddenly called to New Brunswick, and expressing his regret that probably he should not see us again."
"That must have been a great relief to him," murmured Martine, "that call to New Brunswick. Otherwise he might have had to see us again."
"Oh, he expressed great regret at having to go without doing so."
"That was kind in him, even if it wasn't quite sincere. It is my own opinion that he went away on purpose. He couldn't bear to see us again when he remembered how his hair was tumbled—not a sign of the parting—and his cuffs wet. But we remember, don't we, and I hardly blame him for running away."
"Martine, my dear child, you are very absurd. No man could possibly be so vain."
"Especially, my dear Miss Amy Redmond, one whose business is the instruction of youth," rejoined Martine, flippantly.
"I had a letter from Eunice this morning," interposed Priscilla, "and she said that Balfour had had a letter from Mr. Knight, who thanked him for the introduction he had given him to us. She said that he had written about our trip to Grand Pré, and was surprised to find Americans so much interested in Acadian history."
"That is all very well. People always write that way after a letter of introduction; they feel that they must. You cannot persuade me that Mr. Knight had any other reason for running to New Brunswick except to avoid us."
"Perhaps he wished to escape our thanks for the rescue."
"Rescue!" Martine's tone was scornful enough. "We weren't in the least little bit of danger."