THE PIE SOCIAL
Turning the team, they started back. Dapple and Dolly lagged along, heads
down; they were tired, and it was close to supper time.
Jack and Desiré peered into the bushes and trees on either side of the
road for a glimpse of a red coat. Around a bend, among the trees far back
from the road, they finally saw what they sought. Stopping the wagon,
they watched for a moment to see what she was doing. Intently, apparently
without thought of anything else, she was stealthily following a small
black and white animal. Before they could shout a warning, she suddenly
darted forward and seized the little creature. Out of her hands it
twisted, filling the air with a strong, unpleasant odor; then it
disappeared into the dense woods.
“Oh!” groaned Jack.
“Priscilla!” called Desiré sharply.
The child looked up, and began coming toward them.
“Stand right where you are,” directed Jack, when she reached the edge of
the clearing. “Don’t come any nearer. What on earth possessed you to
meddle with a wood pussy?”
“I—I thought it was a kitten,” faltered the little girl, thoroughly
frightened.
“If you’d followed us closely, as Jack told you, you wouldn’t have gotten
into trouble,” said Desiré severely. “What can we do with her, Jack?”
“I’ll get a pail of water from that pond, while you find fresh clothing;
then I’ll carry the things over to the woods. She’ll have to go behind
that clump of scrub pine and take off her clothing, make up the garments
into a bundle, throw it as far into the woods as she can, then bathe and
put on fresh things,” replied Jack, taking a pail and starting down the
road toward a small, but deep, pool of water.
“I’ll go and help her,” said Desiré, when he returned.
“Stay right where you are,” he directed quietly but firmly. “She can
manage perfectly well by herself.”
He crossed the road; and Desiré, though she could not quite distinguish
the words, listened to the brief, curt orders he issued to the
unfortunate little girl. Then he returned and stood leaning against the
side of the wagon. René had dozed off, and Desiré laid him on the seat.
“This is one phase of our adventure that we did not consider,” began
Jack, after a pause. His face looked more serious, even, than usual.
“What? Prissy getting mixed up with a wood pussy?” laughed Desiré.
“No. The problem of discipline. The free and lazy life is going to let
the youngsters get a bit out of hand, I’m afraid.”
“René’s only a baby,” said Desiré reassuringly. “We should have no
trouble managing him. Of course Priscilla is rather difficult at times;
she goes from one extreme to another so quickly. You never know exactly
what she will do next. At home, I sometimes sent her to bed; but that
would be rather difficult in a wagon. But she’s a good little thing, and
we’ll do the best we can. You mustn’t worry about it, Jack,” concluded
Desiré, bending over to touch his thick brown curls.
He caught her hand in his and held it until Priscilla appeared from among
the trees, freshly clothed, and swinging the empty pail in her hand.
Without a word Jack helped her into the wagon and they headed once more
for the town. The sun had sunk below the horizon; the woods were getting
dim; and the sky was a soft rose and gold when they entered Meteghan.
Surely the whole population must be abroad, so filled were the streets
with people all headed toward the church.
“What do you suppose is going on?” asked Desiré, viewing the scene rather
wistfully.
“I don’t know,” replied Jack, pulling the wagon into a free space between
two other vehicles. Almost immediately a tall, awkward youth sauntered
over to them.
“Where’s old Simon?”
Jack explained, adding, “What’s doing here?”
“Pie social,” was the laconic reply. “Better go.”
“Where is it held?” asked Desiré, leaning out and smiling down into his
keen grey eyes.
“Church basement; it’s for the benefit of the church. Costs you a pie to
get in.”
At this point, a companion called to the boy, and he strolled away.
“Like to go?” asked Jack, who had not been unobservant of Desiré’s eager
interest.
“How could we? We haven’t any pies.”
“There must be some place to buy them. Surely some enterprising person
would foresee the market. Let’s look around a bit.”
He tied the horses to a post and locked the doors. René was wide awake by
this time, and eager for new adventures; so the four, Priscilla still
silent, walked along the streets of the little town until they found a
place bearing a sign—“Pies for sale.” Here they purchased four pies, and
turned their steps toward the church. At the door a pretty girl took
their donations, and they were allowed to enter. Along the sides of the
little basement were rough board counters loaded with pies of every size
and variety. One could buy whatever one desired, from a whole pie to a
small slice.
“We’re like the Chinese,” smiled Jack, as they stood eating pieces of
custard pie; “dessert first, then more substantial food.”
The pretty girl who had been at the door now approached them, and smiling
at Jack, said—“We’re going to dance here tonight after all the pies are
sold. Hope you will all stay.”
“I’m sorry, but we shall not be able to,” he replied courteously. “I have
old Simon’s wagon out there, and can’t leave it so long.”
“Oh, we heard about the young man who was going to take Simon’s route. My
folks know him real well. He often puts the wagon in our barn and stays
all night at our house. Why—wait a minute.”
She darted off, and returned almost immediately with a short, thick-set
man, who looked like a farmer.
“This is my father, Jean Riboux,” she said. “I’m Prudence.”
“My name is Wistmore,” replied Jack, shaking hands; “and these are my
sisters, Desiré and Priscilla; and my little brother René.”
“Pleased to know you, both for yourselves and for old Simon,” responded
the man, with unmistakable cordiality. “You must make free at our place,
same as he did. Drive over, put up the team, and stay all night.”
Though Jack protested, the man would hear of no refusal, and ten minutes
later they turned into a nearby farmyard. Jean took the horses away from
Jack, and sent the Wistmores into the house to his wife who had come to
the door to meet them.
“Your husband and daughter insisted upon our coming here for the night,”
said Jack, after introductions had been made; “but I think it is entirely
too much. There are so many of us—”
“There’s always a welcome here for any friends of old Simon’s,” was Mrs.
Riboux’s quiet reply; “and we have plenty of room. We were sorry to hear
of his bad luck; but then, it turned out well for you,” looking at the
little family curiously.
“Yes, the opportunity to take the route came just as we were looking for
something for the summer,” said Desiré, smiling shyly at their hostess.
“Oh, then you’re not goin’ to keep it regular?”
“That can not be decided,” contributed Jack, “until we see how things
go.”
As they gathered around the table for supper, the boy who had told them
about the Pie Social slid into one of the chairs and grinned at Desiré.
“Didn’t think you’d see me again so soon, did you?”
“That’s Ormand, Orrie for short,” explained Prudence, who sat beside Jack
right across the table from them.
“I guessed who you people were as soon as I laid eyes on Dapple and
Dolly; and I knew you’d turn up here finally.”
The conversation of the elders turned to crops, and continued throughout
the meal, while the younger people talked of the coming dance.
“Now,” said Mrs. Riboux to Desiré, as they left the table, “why don’t you
put the little fellow to bed and go to the dance with my boy and girl?
I’ll watch out for him,” as Desiré hesitated and looked at Jack. “All
ages go to these socials, so your sister could go along too,” she added,
as the Wistmores started up the long flight of stairs to their rooms.
“I’ll put René to bed while you dress up a bit,” offered Jack, taking the
little boy by the hand, and preparing to leave Desiré.
She detained him, however, and asked in a low tone, “What about—?”
motioning toward the door of her room, which Priscilla had entered ahead
of her.
“Trot on into that room across the hall, Renny,” directed Jack, starting
him in the right direction; “and see how nearly ready for bed you can get
before I come.”
“Although she is far too young for dances,” he continued, “since it is
the custom here for girls of her age to attend them, I should have
allowed her to go; but in the light of this afternoon’s escapade, I think
she should be deprived of the pleasure. Don’t you?”
“Y—e—s; I suppose so; but I’m afraid she’ll make a fuss, for she expects
to go. And I do hate to disappoint her.”
Without replying, Jack stepped into the room where his younger sister was
standing before an old-fashioned mirror combing her hair.
“Priscilla,” he began quietly, “you weren’t counting on going to the
dance; were you?”
“Yes, I am,” she retorted quickly, turning to face him. “You heard Mrs.
Riboux say that girls of my age go.”
“That is not the point at all. What about this afternoon’s disobedience?”
“It wasn’t my fault that I met that awful animal,” she muttered, half
under her breath.
“You are being purposely stupid, Priscilla. You know very well that you
were deliberately disobedient in not following the wagon as I told you
to. If you can’t obey, we shall all have a miserable summer. To impress
that fact on your mind, you must stay right here in your room until we
come back; that is, unless René wants something.”
Jack crossed the hall to his own room, and Desiré looked pityingly on her
sister, who had thrown herself into a chair beside the window and was
giving way to tears. There was no use trying to reason with Priscilla
when the child was in one of these moods; so she went about her own
preparations for the evening, in silence; but considerable of her own
pleasure was taken out of the prospect.
Before leaving, she stooped over the big chair in which the little girl
crouched, put her arms around her, and kissed her affectionately without
speaking. Priscilla also said nothing, but she returned the kiss; and
Desiré, recognizing the act as the beginning of a return to normal
conditions, felt happier about leaving her.
Ormand and Prudence Riboux were evidently very popular among the young
folks of the country; and they introduced their guests to so many boys
and girls that the Wistmores were never at a loss for partners.
“Wasn’t it _fun_!” cried Desiré joyously, as she said goodnight to Jack
in the dim upper hall, lighted only by their two candles. “Didn’t you
have a good time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And just think, we’ve made some new friends already. I like the Riboux
family.”
“So do I; they’re fine people,” agreed Jack absentmindedly. He was
thinking about tomorrow’s trip into the Clare District. That was going to
be the hardest part of the route, going through their old home and its
neighboring towns.
“Jack!” cried Desiré, as she entered her room. “Prissy’s gone!”