The basket was repacked when the lunch was done; and they set out on their walk. The way, following Bob's direction, led along the bank under the trees, turning a little before the Mong was reached. The house was soon found; standing alone, in an enclosed garden ground where no spade had been struck that season; and at the end of a farm road that shewed no marks of travel.
Bob had not only swept the room, but his tidings had roused apparently his sister to prepare herself also; for Mintie met them as they came in. She was a handsome girl, with a feverish colour in her cheeks that made her appearance only more striking. There was pride and poverty here, clearly. Faith's simple words neither assumed the one nor attacked the other. The girl looked curiously at her and at the other visiter.
"Who be you?"
"We do not live in this neighbourhood," said Faith. "We came up to
Kildeer river to-day, and met your little brother down by the shore."
"What did he say to you?"
"He told us you were sick and in want of help."
Another look laid the girl's jealousy asleep. She told her story—her father had died six months ago; she and her mother and brother lived there alone. It was an "unlikely place to get to," and no neighbours very near. Her mother had been sick abed for a number of weeks; and she had had all to do, and now for a week past had been unable to do anything, go to Pettibaug or anywhere else, to get what they wanted. And so they "had got out of 'most everything." Dromy Tuck, Mr. Linden's scholar, lived at Farmer Davids' in the capacity of farm-boy; Mrs. Davids being a far-off connexion.
So much was all pride permitted to be told. Without much questioning, her visiters contrived to find out what they could do for her. Faith put the coffee-pot on the fire, declaring that it would do Mintie good like medicine; and served it to her when it was hot, with some bread and chicken, as if it had been indeed medicine and Faith a doctor. Then while Bob and she were dining, Faith went in to see the sick woman. She was much more communicative, and half avowed that she believed what she wanted now was "nourishing things"—"but with me lyin' here on my back," she said, "'taint so easy to find 'em." Faith gave her a cup of coffee too and some bread; she had hardly drunk any herself at lunch; and leaving her patient much inspirited, came back to Mr. Linden in the other room. Apparently his words and deeds had been acceptable too,—Bob's face was shining, not only with dinner but with the previous cold water applications which Mr. Linden had insisted on, and Mintie's mind was evidently at work upon various things. The basket was soon emptied of all but its dishes, and the prince and princess went on their way down the hill.
"Faith," said Mr. Linden, "shall we go and sit in the boat for half an hour, considering various things, and then have our wild flower hunt? Or would you prefer that first?"
"O no! I would rather have the half hour in the boat."