“Indeed we are. My father has business on beyond among the hills, and he will drive us close to the forest to spend the afternoon, and stop for us on the way back. It would be too far to walk.”
What fun it was, climbing so joyously into the wagon, with Father Bellefontaine helping them settle down, and putting in the baskets of dainty cakes and the bottle of fruit-juice and the basket of great red strawberries on which they were to feast under the murmuring pines, that sang an echo to the stirring waves, endless as time. And that drive!
First they went through the quaint village where every one knew them, and waved or called a greeting. Evangeline was a favourite with young and old alike, that was evident. Such a clean, bright little village, with orchards almost up to the cottage doors, these cottages so pretty with dormer windows and huge beams of wood criss-crossing the white or tinted plaster of their walls. Brilliant little gardens bloomed before many, and vines scrambled up most. Children played everywhere, and once, coming down a side street, Rose caught a glimpse of the pleasant-faced old priest, surrounded by a group of youngsters, who were grasping at his hands and his flowing black robe, while he smiled down upon them.
Then came the spreading meadows, protected from the sea by dikes on which willows grew in long rows. And then the hills, covered with trees.
Their way led far out on the cape, and the song of the sea was always in their ears, while its blue shone between trees or stretched far as they topped some slight rise. Father Bellefontaine pointed out sights of interest here and there. They passed the smithy and were hailed by Basil Lajeunnes who worked there amid a shower of sparks to the merry ring of iron on iron. A slender youth ran out to exchange a word with them as they stopped a moment—Basil’s son, young Gabriel, and Evangeline smiled at him, but said nothing.
“If there were room in the wagon we should like to take you too, Gabriel,” said the farmer. “But like enough one boy with so many maids would be too bashful, ... eh, Basil?” and he laughed toward his friend, who had come to the door of the smithy and stood smiling.
Gabriel laughed too. “If there were room I would surely forget my bashfulness,” he answered, his eyes dancing.
“Then in with you,” cried Farmer Bellefontaine, “and you two behind make room somehow. I shall be glad enough to have Gabriel with these maids in the forest, for all Alphonse is here.”
So Gabriel climbed in between Ruth and Evangeline, and the little party hastened on toward the cape, Alphonse leaping and barking around the wagon and horse as though he enjoyed it all every bit as much as the rest.
“Be wise children and do not wander too deep into the forest,” warned Evangeline’s father as he left the young people in the shadow of the mighty pines, baskets and all, and drove off about his business. “I shall be back by sunset.”