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Amy in Acadia
[Illustration: "From a drawer behind the counter she drew a small fan."
FRONTISPIECE. _See_ p. 25.]
Amy in Acadia
_A Story for Girls_
By
Helen Leah Reed
Author of "The Brenda Books" "Miss Theodora"
"Irma and Nap"
With Illustrations by Katharine Pyle
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1905
_Copyright, 1905_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
Published October, 1905
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U. S. A.
TO CONSTANCE
MY NIECE
WHO JOURNEYED WITH ME THROUGH ACADIA
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I BANISHED 1
II LOST AND FOUND 14
III TOWARD METEGHAN 29
IV YVONNE 43
V NEW PEOPLE 57
VI PIERRE AND POINT A L'EGLISE 71
VII DIGBY DAYS 89
VIII TWO ADVENTURES 105
IX OLD PORT ROYAL 119
X EXPLORATIONS 134
XI A TEA PARTY 147
XII IN THE FOG 163
XIII LETTERS AND SOME COMMENTS 178
XIV AN EXCURSION 191
XV WITH PREJUDICE 204
XVI EVANGELINE'S COUNTRY 219
XVII SAFE AGAIN 236
XVIII THE RIGHT AND THE WRONG OF IT 249
XIX A DISCOVERY 263
XX FIRE AND FLAME 279
XXI OLD CHEBUCTO 299
XXII FINDING COUSINS 315
XXIII GOOD-BYE TO HALIFAX 329
List of Illustrations
"From a drawer behind the counter she drew a small
fan" _Frontispiece_
"'Madame Bourque,' she cried, 'I asked him to come to
see me'" _Page_ 71
"'Hello! hello!' she shouted" " 170
"'Why, what is the matter, child?' she asked
affectionately" " 246
"After one ineffectual effort to pry open the lock, the
other one had thrown down the scissors" " 282
"Behind Lucian stalked Malachai, flourishing his cane
after the fashion of a drum-major" " 320
_Amy in Acadia_
CHAPTER I
BANISHED
"No, Fritz, I cannot--"
"You _will_ not."
"Well, then I _will_ not ask mother to invite you to go on with us."
Amy spoke decidedly, but Fritz was not ready to give up.
"Oh, Amy, do be reasonable! I cannot say anything more to your mother,
for you are in an obstinate mood, evidently determined to persuade
yourself that you do not wish us to travel with you."
"That is true; I do not wish you to go on with us."
"But you and I are _such_ friends."
"So we are, and so we shall continue to be. Because we are such friends,
I am sure that you will forgive me for being so--"
"So unreasonable."
"No--reasonable. Now just look at the whole thing sensibly. Here we
are--mamma and I and two girls."
"What do you call yourself? Aren't you a girl?"
"Don't interrupt; perhaps I should have said two _school_girls. We have
come away partly for rest and change, partly for study. So it would only
upset all our plans to have you and your friend with us. You'd be
dreadfully in the way."
"In the way! I like that. Why, you could rest, or study all day, for all
we'd care, and we'd afford you the change that you would certainly need
once in a while. Only--if you'll excuse my saying so--who ever heard of
any one's resting or studying on a pleasure-trip? Just look at the funny
side of it yourself, Amy--and smile--please."
Whereupon, quite against her will, the smile that twitched Amy's lips
extended itself into a laugh, in which Fritz Tomkins joined heartily.
"Ah, Amy, that laugh makes me think of old times. So now perhaps you'll
condescend to explain why two lonely youths may not visit the historic
Acadia in company with you and your mother, not to mention the other
members of your party."
Amy made no answer, and Fritz continued:
"Just think what we shall lose! It always benefits me to be with your
mother, and you are so full of information, Amy, and you so love to
impart what you know, that by the end of the journey I should be a
walking guidebook. To go with you would be better than attending a
summer school."
"There, Fritz," interrupted Amy, with rising color, "you are getting
back at me for what I have said. But we really mean to make this an
improving trip."
"So I should judge. Improving only to yourselves."
"Well, then I'll explain, since you find it so hard to understand. You
surely know that mamma has been overworking, and yet she does not wish
to waste the whole summer. So, after resting a little, she expects to
find good sketching-material in Nova Scotia. Then I need more strength
before the beginning of my Senior year."
"I'll be a Senior, too, in the autumn," murmured Fritz; but Amy, not
heeding the interruption, continued:
"Then there's Priscilla; she has been rather low-spirited since her
father died. She is generally in Plymouth in the summer, and this will
be a change. Besides, she is to read a little English with me for her
Radcliffe examinations."
"_Rest_--and _change_--and _study_, for three of you. Well, I do hope
that the other girl is to get some pleasure out of the trip. Didn't you
tell me that she comes from Chicago?"
"Oh, Martine finds amusement in everything--even in study. She was at a
boarding-school last year on the Hudson, and she made life there so
entertaining for herself and her classmates that she had to leave. Her
parents then decided to have her visit relatives in Boston this spring.
Next year she's to go to Miss Crawdon's. She's especially in mother's
care, and I do hope she'll enjoy the summer, for she is worried about
her mother, who is ill at some baths in Germany."
"Thus far, Amy, you haven't offered a single reason for your desire to
banish us from your side. Neither Taps nor I will stand in the way of
your mother's sketches, except to pose for her when she asks. We
certainly won't deprive the air of its invigorating qualities; and we
might even study--"
"No, Fritz, you'd simply be in the way."
"I won't admit that, Miss Amy Redmond, and if I should ask your mother,
she would probably say that you are quite wrong in your opinion. In
fact, that's why you won't let me talk with her. However, as you've
extorted a promise from me, Taps and I will go as far away from you as
we can--in Nova Scotia. We'll travel in the opposite direction from
Acadia, for Nova Scotia is large enough to contain us all without a
collision. But mark my words, many a time in the next few weeks you'll
sigh for a manly arm to pull you out of your difficulties. _Then_ you'll
remember me."
"I'm not afraid. Acadia has no dangers. Even the Micmacs are tamed. The
French and Indian wars are over."
"That reminds me,--please excuse me for interrupting,--you will find
Digby, where you are going to-morrow, very tame compared with Pubnico."
"Pubnico?"
"Yes, Pubnico, a wonderful French village, with Acadians and descendants
of the old noblesse, and with many interesting things that you'll miss
altogether in your misguided course. Then we shall go to the deserted
Loyalist town, Shelburne, which is full of history and haunted houses."
"You seem to have digested a whole guidebook, Fritz. As Shelburne is on
the opposite side of the peninsula, I suppose that you really have not
intended to travel with us."
"Oh, I had two strings to my bow, and when I heard of the French
villages, I decided that to visit them would be the next best thing to
do." Then, looking at his watch, "But now I really must say good-bye;
it's past my time for meeting Taps."
"Good-bye, Fritz." Amy held out her hand amicably. "You are not angry,
are you?"
"No, not angry, only--I may never forgive you. Certainly I shall not
forget."
Before Amy could reply, Fritz had wheeled away, and, turning a corner,
was soon lost to sight. As Amy walked a few steps along the hotel
piazza, suddenly she met her mother face to face.
"Where's Fritz?" asked Mrs. Redmond. "I expected to find him with you."
"Oh, he's gone. It's settled that the boys are not to come with us."
"But, my dear, I hope you have not sent him off. Sometimes you are too
abrupt."
"Why, mother, I thought that you did not wish them to come with us."
"I was certainly surprised to see Fritz on the boat last evening. But he
is like my own son, and if he has set his heart on going to Digby, we
must not keep him away."
"Oh, he's going around on the other coast, he and his friend."
"Did you meet his friend?"
"No, I heard Fritz call him 'Taps'--a perfectly ridiculous name. Do you
know anything about him?"
"Only what Fritz told me last evening--that he was a Freshman who had
taken a violent fancy to him. Fritz said that he had agreed to travel
with the boy this summer from a sense of duty."
"A sense of duty!"
"Yes; 'Taps,' as he calls him, has been trying to shake off some
undesirable friends. He gave up a trip to Europe that he might avoid
running across them, and Fritz, knowing the circumstances, thought that
he could do no less than agree to take some other trip with him. It was
only on the spur of the moment that they decided to come with us."
"Fritz was terribly cut up to find that we did not care to have them."
"Naturally--and indeed, Amy, if I had had a chance to talk frankly with
him, we could have had them with us part of the time. His friend was a
bright, honest-looking lad, hardly more than a schoolboy."
"Oh, mamma, I thought him so dandified!--just the kind to be a nuisance
in a party that intends to rough it."
"Do you realize, Amy, that you use much more slang than before you went
to college?"
"That's another reason for not having Fritz with us; it is not _my_
college, but _his_, that twists my vocabulary."
"Possibly, but I only hope that he is not offended. Well! well! Why,
Priscilla, why, Martine, where have you been?"
As she spoke two young girls came running up the steps, and one of them
with a bound flung herself upon Mrs. Redmond's neck.
"Oh, isn't it a perfect morning, so cool and salt-smelling! and it's
almost as good as Europe to see a foreign flag floating from the
hotel--even if it is only English. And isn't Yarmouth a dear sleepy old
town, though it's said to be so American! Some one told me that it was
the only place in Nova Scotia where they hustled. My, but I wish they
could see Chicago! Then they'd know what 'hustle' means."
"Yes, my dear," gasped Mrs. Redmond; "but would you move your arm--just
a little? You almost choke me."
"Please excuse me, but I feel so excited that I must hug somebody, and
Priscilla and Amy never let me hug them."
"Why, I'm sure--" began Amy.
"Oh, no, you haven't said a word, that's quite true, and I've never even
tried to embrace you, yet I'm perfectly sure that you would hate it, and
so Mrs. Redmond--"
"Is the victim," rejoined Amy. "Well, mamma _is_ amiable. Only, while we
are travelling, do be careful not to squeeze too tightly; it rumples her
stock. Mamma, you'll really have to put on a fresh one before we start
out."
During this conversation Priscilla had been silent. She was shorter than
Martine, and fairer, and her expression was sad, or querulous,--at first
glance it was hard to say which. Yet her half-mourning costume--the
black skirt, and the black ribbon at her throat--suggested what was
really the case--that Priscilla had had some recent sorrow.
"What have you been doing, Priscilla?" asked Mrs. Redmond, noticing the
young girl's silence.
"Doing!" interrupted Martine, before Priscilla could speak. "Only think
how silly she's been. This beautiful morning--and in a new place--she
has spent writing letters. Isn't she a goose?"
"Oh, Martine!" and Amy shook her head in reproof.
Priscilla colored deeply as she turned apologetically to Mrs. Redmond.
"I promised mamma to write as soon as I could. She will get my letter
day after to-morrow."
"You were very considerate to write promptly. Your mother will be
delighted to hear so soon. But where have _you_ been, Martine?"
"Oh, rambling a little; I just couldn't stay in the house."
"It's strange, Martine," added Amy, "but a while ago, when I took a
stroll down the road, I saw a boy and a girl wheeling down a side street
together who looked so like you."
"Which, the boy or the girl?"
Disregarding Martine's flippancy, Amy continued: "I realized that it
couldn't possibly be you, as you know no one in Yarmouth."
"And didn't bring my wheel with me," added Martine. "So please, Miss Amy
Redmond, don't see double, or else before I know it you'll have all my
faults magnified to twice their size."
While Martine was speaking, Priscilla looked at her closely. But
Martine, if she felt Priscilla's eye upon her, showed no embarrassment.
Instead, she burst into a peal of laughter that woke from his slumbers a
quiet old gentleman dozing over his newspaper in a piazza chair.
Martine's laughter quickly degenerated into a giggle, and with only an
"Excuse me, I can't help it," she rushed into the house.
"There, mother," said Amy, "I fear that Martine will be a greater care
to us than we expected. If she hadn't run off I was going to suggest
that we all go for a walk, to see what there really is to be seen in the
town. We'll have plenty of time before dinner."
"I'll get my hat and bring Martine with me;" and Mrs. Redmond left
Priscilla and Amy by themselves.
A little later the four travellers were walking up the broad street,
partially shaded with trees, through which they had many glimpses of the
blue harbor.
"Isn't it strange," said Priscilla to Amy, "to think that this time
yesterday we were half-stifled with Boston heat! They said that it was
the hottest day of the season, and it is probably as hot there to-day;
and here we are--"
"Ready to shiver," interposed Amy. "You should have brought a coat,
Priscilla, for I almost feel an east wind."
"Oh, the air is soft. There's no danger of catching cold. Do you notice
all the flowers in these little gardens? It's a pleasant air, like the
Shoals, and those hawthorn hedges make me think of England,--at least,
what I've read of it, for I've never been there. We must ask Martine."
"You are almost as eloquent as Martine herself." Amy turned toward
Priscilla with a smile. "You were so quiet at breakfast, and indeed all
the morning, until now, that I feared you were not enjoying the trip."
"Well, to be honest, I felt homesick at first. You see, I have never
been away before without any of my family, and then I hadn't got the
motion of the boat out of my head. But now I feel perfectly well, and
perhaps--" but here Priscilla's voice was not quite steady--"perhaps I
shall not be homesick."
Amy drew Priscilla's hand within her arm.
"Of course not. Naturally, you will miss your mother and the children.
But you'll go back to them with such red cheeks, and so many interesting
things to tell, that you will be glad you had courage to come away. You
mustn't be homesick."
"Oh, I won't be," said Priscilla,--"that is, if I can help it; but if I
didn't know you much better than Martine, I think that I'd have to go
home."
Whereupon Amy, perceiving that Priscilla was not yet herself, strove to
divert her by telling her little incidents of early Nova Scotian
history. Her device was successful, and by the time they had overtaken
Mrs. Redmond and Martine, Priscilla was quite cheerful again.
In their walk they had turned aside from the main street, and had
reached a point on the outskirts where elevated land gave them a good
view of the water. Mrs. Redmond and Martine had found a large flat rock,
on which they seated themselves, and Mrs. Redmond was already at work
with her sketchbook before her.
"I'm glad that you've come, Amy,--I mean Miss Redmond," began Martine.
"I've been trying to tell your mother about some kind of a queer stone
that I heard some people talking about at the breakfast-table to-day,
but I haven't it quite clear in my mind, and so I'm waiting for you to
help me out."
"Oh, the runic stone?" asked Amy. "There isn't so very much to tell
about it, except that it was found more than seventy years ago, and is
thought by some people to be a memorial of the Norsemen."
"The Norsemen in Nova Scotia? But why didn't they discover the stone
before?"
"It was found by a Dr. Fletcher in a cove on his own property. The
inscription was on the under side, and showed signs of great age. There,
I believe I have something about it here;" and pulling a small notebook
from her pocket, Amy refreshed her memory.
"Yes, it weighed about four hundred and fifty pounds, and some
antiquarians have translated the inscription, 'Harki's son addressed the
men.' It seems that there was a man named Harki among those Norsemen who
sailed along the coast of America in 1007."
"That is certainly worth knowing," said Mrs. Redmond, "and I hope that
we can see the stone before we go."
"Well, it's only fair," continued Amy, "to tell you that some learned
people do not believe in the Norse theory."
"Perhaps it's like the inscription on the Dighton rock," interposed
Priscilla, "that they now think was made by Indians."
"Yes," added Amy, "but the strange thing is that a few years ago a
second stone was found about a mile away from the other, and the
inscription on it was almost the same."
"Well," exclaimed Martine, "it doesn't matter whether the Norsemen
really were here or not, as long as we can imagine that they may have
been. I like the romantic part of history, if it gives you something
entertaining to think about. It's all the same whether or not it is
true."
After which heretical sentiment, Priscilla, Plymouth-born Priscilla,
felt herself to be farther away than ever from Martine.
When Priscilla nestled down beside Mrs. Redmond to watch the growth of
her sketch, Martine became impatient.
"Let us go back. We've seen everything there is to see in this part of
the town, and perhaps I shall have time for a letter or two before
dinner."
"I'll go with you," responded Amy. "I have some packing to do."
"Packing?"
"Oh, just to rearrange some of my things."
"Very well," said Mrs. Redmond. "Priscilla and I will wait until this
sketch is finished, and then we'll return by the electric car."
"Any one would know that you and your mother are from Boston," said
Martine, turning to Amy with a laugh. "I have heard my father say that
Bostonians are the only people in the world who take the trouble to say
'electric cars.'"
"What do others say?"
"Why, trolley, of course. They'd laugh at you if you said anything else
in Chicago."
"You're pretty rapid in Chicago."
"And you are rather--well, rather slow in Boston."