On their way back to the hotel they did an errand in a corner shop. The clerk addressed them in rather broken English, and in answer to Amy's question said that he was a descendant of an Acadian exile. He told them one or two anecdotes, and when he had to turn to other customers Amy waited until they were served, hoping to hear more from him.
"That negro," he explained, as a tall Black went out of the shop, "is a descendant of one of the slaves of the Revolution."
"Was that other man a negro, too, who went out with him?"
"Oh, no, he's an Indian from the Bear River Reservation. If you go that way, you must be sure to visit it."
"I hope that we are going there, for I hear that Bear River is a beautiful place. Though I am not particularly anxious to see the Micmac on his native heath, it certainly is interesting to have met representatives of the four race elements in this little shop," said Amy, as they turned away.
"Four race elements?" asked Martine, not quite understanding her.
"Yes, of Nova Scotia Loyalists, Acadians, Indians, and negroes. To be sure Pre-Loyalists would be more representative than negroes—but the former did not settle Digby."
"Let's go up on Cannon Hill for a last look. Your mother just loves it. We have made some fine sketches of those crooked apple-trees and that old house."
"And the cannon? They are certainly unlike any others you will come across."
"I have photographed the cannon," replied Martine, with dignity, "and if I had time, I might sketch them."