“Is Jack angry at me?” inquired Priscilla, sleepily.
“Not a bit, dear. We thought you were lost. Everybody has been looking all over for you, out in the barn, in the woods, and—”
“And here I was all the time,” giggled the child, wholly unconscious of having been the cause of great anxiety and effort.
Along the shore, the next morning, as the Wistmores started out after parting reluctantly with the Riboux family, were hundreds of gulls looking for food, and the air was filled with their harsh croaking cries. Out on the blue waters floated others, at rest on the ripples. In the meadows herds of black and white cows wandered about, cropping the grass heavy with dew, their bells tinkling constantly as they sought for choicer tidbits.
“Before we get to Saulnierville we make our first stop,” said Desiré, consulting the list she had taken from Jack’s pocket.
“We’ll be there shortly.”
“Oh, I hope we sell just lots of stuff!” cried Priscilla, who was quite herself again.
“Yes, lots of stuff,” echoed René, grabbing Jack around the neck.
“Don’t choke brother,” laughed Desiré, loosening the embracing arms.
Before many minutes passed, they came in sight of a small grey house. An immense grey barn stood behind it, its double doors freshly painted a brilliant red. The farm was enclosed by a grey fence with double gates of pure white.