“Well, it’s no use my shaking my head, because you can’t see me,” said the fairy. “But....”
And her voice sounded just as though she were shaking it.
So Rose and Ruth both laughed rather shamefacedly, and then the fairy laughed too and the air cleared like magic.
“And now that life seems worth while again, my dears, suppose we go off on a little trip of our own?”
Nothing could be better than that, and when Ruth begged that they might visit Evangeline this time, Rose thought it a splendid suggestion, and the fairy agreed.
“There isn’t a lovelier place anywhere than Grand Pré,” she told them, “nor a sweeter girl than Evangeline. So come along, quick, quick, quick!”
And in less time than you’d take to get out of your chair, the sisters found themselves in Acadie, of a lovely June afternoon.
They were strolling along a white and curving road shaded by trees. On either hand the meadows spread, deep in grass, reaching to the blue, calm waters of the Basin of Midas on one side, on the other to the misty-topped mountains, dark with forest. Ahead of them lay the lovely village, with its white, thatch-roofed cottages and big church. Flax in bloom made broad patches of blue, a clearer, lighter blue than the sea-water, but just as beautiful. It was a smiling, lovely scene.
Coming to meet them, with a basket on her arm, was a girl of their own age dressed in a blue frock with full white sleeves and opening at the throat over a white yoke. A white cap with broad lappets topped her shining brown hair. She was as winsome a sight as ever the sun shone on, with a sweet and laughing face and a body as lissom as the swaying grain just ripening in the fields.
Rose and Ruth were dressed in the same way, and they turned their heads with delight to make their caps wave the white wings that so pleasantly shaded their necks.