Jeanne rose wearily to follow her.
Strangely enough, as they made their way back over the trail they came upon no sign that anyone had been there besides themselves.
Stranger still, Florence and Jeanne were to hear of that gasp weeks later, and in a place far, far away. Of such weird miracles are some lives made.
CHAPTER XI
A SECRET BEGUN
Next day it rained. And how it did rain! The lake was a gray mass of spattered suds. The trees wept.
Petite Jeanne was quite content. She had started to read a long French novel. There was a box of bonbons by her side, and plenty of wood for the fire.
“It does not matter.” She shrugged her shoulders. “To-morrow the sun will shine again.” At that she lost herself in her book.
Florence enjoyed reading. Sometimes. But never in the north woods. Each day, every day, the woods and water called to her. She endured inaction until lunch time had come and gone. Then she drew on her red raincoat and announced her intention of going fishing.
“In the rain!” Jeanne arched her brows, then shuddered. “Such a cold rain.”
“It’s the best time, especially for bass. Rain spatters the water. They can’t see you, so they take your bait.”