“Bridgewater,” corrected Desiré, laughing.
“Well, a river is water,” persisted Priscilla, who was always reluctant to admit that she had made a mistake; and disliked very much to be laughed at.
“Sometimes it is red mud,” suggested Jack mischievously. “Eh, Prissy?” drawing a feathery grass blade across the back of her neck as she sat in front of him sorting shells and stones.
The children had gathered a bushel or more of beach treasures that they “simply must take with them,” but Jack had decreed that only one small box could be incorporated in their luggage.
“I thought it best to get back to Wolfville as soon as possible,” explained her brother seriously when she did not respond to his good-natured teasing. “It’s not so very warm now nights.”
“What about the ox?” asked Desiré.
“A friend of the doctor’s, in fact the man who came out here after Dolly, has lost one of his—”
“Lost!” exclaimed Priscilla disdainfully. “How on earth could one lose an ox?”
“The way we nearly lost Dolly,” replied Jack briefly, before continuing his explanation to Desiré. “And naturally he wants to buy a perfect match for the remaining one. He has been around the nearby country, but for some reason—I believe his wife is ill, or something like that—he can’t go far to hunt one up. So the doctor is helping him, and he thought I might just happen to see one on the way to Halifax.”
“How would you know if you did?” demanded Priscilla, with some scorn, still annoyed at having to abandon so many of her marine souvenirs.