“I’m afraid you can’t leave our good neighbors like that. They have known us all our lives; and think how hurt they would feel.”
“I suppose so; but they all want us to do something different, and criticize nôtre père for trying to educate us.”
“They don’t understand, but they mean well and have been very kind to us.”
“I know, and I do appreciate it; but—couldn’t we start soon?”
“Day after tomorrow, I should think. I’m afraid one trunk and the box in the store room will be all we can take on our travels. Shall you be able to manage that way?”
“I’ll try to; but what shall I do with the furniture?”
“Give it away, or leave it for Yves. We’ll just have to stifle all sentimental affection for our household gods.”
“We’ll have a house of our own again some day, and get new household gods.”
* * * * * * * *
Intense excitement prevailed in the Clare District on Wednesday afternoon. Little groups of women and children were hurrying along the dusty road. On every doorstep a man or woman too old, or a child too young, to join the procession was sitting waiting to wave farewell to the travelers when they passed. These good people were much disturbed at the departure of the little Wistmore family. It was almost unheard of for any of the Acadian families voluntarily to leave that peaceful section and wander among strangers in unfamiliar parts of the country. Occasionally, within their knowledge, an individual or two had decided to seek his fortune elsewhere; but never before a whole family, and the Wistmores at that! The neighbors had done their best, one and all, to dissuade the children from following such a course; but since their words of advice and warning had proved of no avail, they were now on their way, bearing little gifts of good will, to bid the adventurers Godspeed.