“When the mists have rolled in splendor, from the beauty of the hills,
And the sunshine warm and tender, falls in kisses on the rills,
We may read love’s shining letter, in the rainbow of the spray,
We shall know each other better, when the mists have cleared away.”
When Shad returned from the station, he came into the kitchen with a load of wood on his arm, stamping his feet, and whistling.
“Seen anything of Joe?” he asked. “I ain’t laid eyes on the little creature since breakfast, and he was going to chop up my kindling for me. I’ll bet a cookie he’s took to his heels. He’s been acting funny for several days ever since that peddler went along here.”
“Oh, not really, Shad,” said Jean, anxiously. She had overlooked Joe completely in the hurry of preparations for departure. “What could happen to him?”
“Nothing special,” answered Shad dryly, “ ’cepting an ingrowing dislike for work.”
“You can’t expect a little fellow only nine to work very hard, can you?”
“Well, he should earn his board and keep, I’ve been telling him. And he don’t want to go to school, he says. He’s got to do something. He keeps asking me when I’m going down to Nantic. Looks suspicious to me!”