In Which Jimmie Grimm Surprises a Secret, Jim Grimm makes a Rash Promise, and a Tourist From the States Discovers the Marks of Tog’s Teeth
With spring came the great disappointment. The snow melted from the hills; wild flowers blossomed where the white carpet had lain; the ice was ready to break and move out to sea with the next wind from the west. There were no more foxes to be caught. Jim Grimm bundled the skins, strapped them on his back, and took them to the storekeeper at Shelter Harbour, five miles up the coast; and when their value had been determined he came home disconsolate.
Jimmie’s mother had been watching from the window. “Well?” she said, when the man came in.
“’Tis not enough,” he groaned. “I’m sorry, mum; but ’tis not enough.”
She said nothing, but waited for him to continue; for she feared to give him greater distress. 42
“’Twas a fair price he gave me,” Jim Grimm continued. “I’m not complainin’ o’ that. But there’s not enough t’ do more than keep us in food, with pinchin’, till we sells the fish in the fall. I’m sick, mum––I’m fair sick an’ miserable along o’ disappointment.”
“’Tis sad t’ think,” said the mother, “that Jimmie’s not t’ be cured––after all.”
“For the want o’ twelve dollars!” he sighed.
They were interrupted by the clatter of Jimmie’s crutches, coming in haste from the inner room. Then entered Jimmie.
“I heered what you said,” he cried, his eyes blazing, his whole worn little body fairly quivering with excitement. “I heered you say ’cure.’ Is I t’ be cured?”