“He has a customer now. André Comeau’s prospective father-in-law wants to move here after the wedding. He can’t bear to have Marie live so far away from him. Sorry to spoil your inspiration, dear.”
Desiré made no reply; for she was very close to tears, and she hated to act like a baby instead of the good pal her brother had always called her.
“We’re going to work on André’s house again tomorrow,” observed Jack presently. “The roof’s on, the floors laid, and by Saturday we should be able to start the barn.”
In New Acadia all the relatives, friends, and neighbors of a man who is about to be married join in building a new house for him. They clear a piece of land, haul materials, and labor for weeks on the construction of house, barn, and sheds. When these are finished, the garden is prepared, the fields ploughed and planted, and the buildings furnished. The bride-to-be contributes linens, and her people stock the farm with animals. Some morning the whole countryside walks to church to see the couple wedded, returning to the home of the bride’s mother, where the day is spent in feasting and merry-making. If the groom can afford it, he then takes his bride to Yarmouth to spend a few days at the Grand Hotel. That is the greatest ambition of every rustic pair.
Jack talked on quietly about the house raising until he saw that his sister had recovered her composure. She was smiling bravely as he kissed her goodnight, but her sleep was broken by feverish dreams of the worn slip of paper, and a long journey.
When Jack returned at dusk the following evening, after a long day’s work on André’s house, he found Desiré waiting for him with sparkling eyes, flushed face, and such an air of repressed excitement that he wondered what had happened while he had been away.
It was necessary to wait until the children had gone to bed before he could question her. They had decided it was best to leave the younger ones out of discussions of ways and means. “Let them be carefree as long as they can,” Desiré had urged, and Jack had agreed.
“Who do you suppose was here today?” she asked, perching on the arm of his chair as soon as they were alone.
“Never could guess,” he replied, slipping his arm around her.
“Old Simon.”