THE day of the picnic was hot, very hot, for June, but that did not
discourage the younger picnickers at all.
"It will be pretty warm on the river," Mr. Merrithew remarked,
tentatively, as they sat at dinner. The dining-room windows were open,
and the soft air, sweet with the scent of lilacs, blew the white
curtains into the room with lazy puffs.
"It will be so lovely when we get to Government House, though," Marjorie
cried. "There is always a breeze up there, father, and there are plenty
of trees, and three summer-houses, and that big veranda. Oh, I think it
will be perfect."
"Yes, Daddy, I do, too! I think it will be _gorlious_!" said Jackie.
When, after much hurrying about, telephoning to tardy members of the
party, and good-natured discussion as to the arrangement of the
canoe-loads, they were at last afloat on the blue, shining river, they
all agreed with Jack. Dora was charmed with the slender Milicete canoes.
She had seen chiefly canvas and wooden ones. Her father, indeed, had
owned a bark canoe, but it was of much heavier and broader build than
these slim beauties, that glided through the water like fairy craft,
impelled this way or that by the slightest turn of the steersman's
wrist.
[Illustration: IN THE GOVERNMENT HOUSE GROUNDS]
They landed just back of Government House, the grounds of which sloped
down to the water. The house is a long, stone building, with a broad
veranda at the back, and in front nearly covered with Virginia creeper.
At the time of the picnic it was empty, and in charge of a caretaker,
who lived in a small cottage on the grounds. When a suitable spot had
been chosen for tea, and the baskets piled close by, Mrs. Merrithew
proposed an excursion through the house, and Mr. Merrithew went with
Jackie to procure the key. When he returned, they all trooped merrily up
the front steps, and soon were dispersed through the great echoing halls
and lofty rooms. Most of the grown people of the party had danced here
at many a stately ball, for in those days Government House had been kept
up in the good old-fashioned way. Marjorie and Jack delighted in hearing
their mother tell of her "coming out" at one of these balls, and how she
had been so proud of her first train that she had danced without holding
it up, which must have been trying for her partners. Dora was greatly
interested in seeing the room where King Edward, then the slim young
Prince of Wales, had slept, on the occasion of his visit to
Fredericton. When the furniture of Government House was auctioned, a few
years before our story opens, the pieces from this room, which should
have been kept together as of historic interest, were scattered about
among various private purchasers. Mrs. Merrithew described them to Dora,
who wished she could have seen the great bed, so wide that it was almost
square, with its canopy and drapings of rich crimson, and its gilt
"Prince of Wales feathers," and heavy gold cords and tassels.
When they came out of the dim, cool house into the warm air, the elders
looked apprehensively at the heavy black clouds which had gathered in
the west.
"That looks ominous," one of the gentlemen said. "There will certainly
be thunder before night."
Thunder! That was Marjorie's horror! Her round, rosy face grew pale, and
she clung tightly to her mother's arm. The men and matrons held a
hurried consultation, and decided that the storm was probably not very
near, and that it would be safe to wait for tea if they hurried things a
little. It would be a terrible disappointment to the children (all, at
least, but Marjorie!) to be hurried away without "the picnic part of the
picnic." So they all bustled about, and in a short time the cloth was
spread, and well covered with good things. The fire behaved well, as if
knowing the need of haste, and the coffee was soon made, and as
delicious as picnic coffee, by some apparent miracle, generally is. By
the time the repast was over, the clouds had drawn closer, the air was
more sultry, and even the most optimistic admitted that it was high time
to start for home. The canoes were quickly loaded, the best canoe-men
took the paddles, and soon they were darting swiftly down-river, running
a race with the clouds.
In spite of their best speed, however, the storm broke before they
reached their journey's end. The thunder growled and muttered, a few
bright flashes lit up the sultry sky, and just as they landed a
tremendous peal caused the most courageous to look grave, while poor
Marjorie could scarcely breathe from terror. Then the rain came, and the
pretty muslin dresses and flower-trimmed hats looked very dejected
before their wearers were safely housed! Still, no one was the worse for
that little wetting, Marjorie recovered from her fright as soon as she
could nestle down in a dark room with her head in her mother's lap, and
they all agreed with Jackie that it _had_ been "a gorlious time."
Before the children went to bed Mrs. Merrithew told them about the plan
which she had mentioned two days before, and to which Mr. Merrithew had
heartily consented. He was to take a whole holiday, on Thursday of the
following week, and drive them all up to the Indian Village, about
thirteen miles above town, to see the Corpus Christi celebrations.
Corpus Christi, a well-known festival in the Roman Catholic Church, is
one which has been chosen by the Indians for special celebration. As it
comes in June, and that is such a pleasant time for little excursions,
many drive to the Indian Village from Fredericton and from the
surrounding country, to see the Milicetes in their holiday mood.
The day being fresh and lovely, with no clouds but tiny white ones in
the sky, Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew and the three children set off early on
Thursday morning. They had a roomy two-seated carriage, and two big
brisk, white horses, plenty of wraps and umbrellas in case history
should repeat itself with another storm, and an ample basket of
dainties. The road, winding along the river-bank most of the the way,
was excellent, and the scenery Dora thought prettier than any she had
seen. The river was smooth as a mirror, reflecting every tree and bush
on its banks. Little islands, green and tree-crested, were scattered all
along its shining length.
It was almost time for the service when they reached the picturesque
little village which went climbing bravely up its hill to the chapel and
priest's house near the top. The horses were taken charge of by a sedate
young half-breed, evidently proud of his office as the "priest's man,"
and our party at once filed into the chapel. A plain enough little
structure in itself, to-day it was beautiful with green boughs, ferns,
and flowers. The congregation consisted chiefly of Indians and
half-breeds, with a scattering of interested visitors. Most of the
natives were clad in gorgeous finery, some of the older ones having
really handsome beaded suits and beautifully worked moccasins, while
others were grotesque in their queer combination of the clothes of
civilization and savagery. The priest, a tall, good-looking man with
piercing eyes, sang high mass, and then the procession formed. First
came an altar-boy carrying a cross, then six boys with lighted tapers,
and two walking backward scattering boughs. These were followed by the
priest bearing the host and sheltered by a canopy which four altar-boys
carried. These boys were all Indians, and the mild well-featured
Milicete faces had lost their stolidity, and were lit up with an
expression of half-mystic adoration. After them came the congregation,
bare-headed, and singing as they walked. Marjorie and Dora clasped hands
as they followed, their eyes shining with excitement. They went down the
road and entered a schoolhouse not far from the church, where the host
was placed in a little tabernacle of green boughs while the service was
continued. Then the procession re-formed and went back to the church.
After they had disbanded, the Indians scattered to their houses to
prepare for the various other events of the day. Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew
and the children were carried off by the priest (whom Mr. Merrithew knew
well) to have dinner with him in his house near the chapel. The children
stood a little in awe of him at first, but he was so companionable and
kind that they were soon quite at their ease. His mother, who kept house
for him, was evidently very proud of her son, and did her best to
entertain his visitors worthily. The house was rather bare, but clean as
wax and the perfection of neatness, while the repast, spread on the
whitest of linen, was excellent, and not without some rather unusual
dainties,--such as candied fruits of many colours for the children, and
guava jelly brought out especially in Mrs. Merrithew's honour.
After dinner the good father offered to show them through the village,
and they set out together on a tour of inspection. All the full-grown
Indians, the priest told them, were holding a pow-wow in the
schoolhouse, for the purpose of electing a chief. "There is no need of
my being there this afternoon," he said, in answer to Mr. Merrithew's
inquiry; "but this evening, when they have their feast and their
games,--ah, then I will keep my eye on them!"
Evidently this priest held very parental relations toward his people.
The visitors noticed that some boys playing baseball on the green
eagerly referred their disputes to him and accepted his word as final.
He took them into several of the little wooden houses, all of which,
probably in honour of the day, were in splendid order. In one they found
twin papooses, brown as autumn beech-leaves, sleeping side by side in a
basket of their mother's making. In another a wrinkled old squaw had
most dainty moccasins to sell, the Milicete slipper-moccasins, with
velvet toe-pieces beautifully beaded. Mr. Merrithew bought a pair for
each of his party (himself excepted), letting them choose their own.
Mrs. Merrithew promptly selected a pair with yellow velvet on the toes;
Dora's choice had crimson, and Marjorie's blue, while Jackie's tiny pair
was adorned with the same colour as his mother's.
"You see, mother dear," he said quite seriously, "yours are a _little_
larger, so we won't be mixing them up!"
Then, being in a gift-making mood, Mr. Merrithew bought them each a
quaint and pretty basket, besides a big substantial scrap-basket for his
own study, and handkerchief-cases, gorgeous in pink and green, for Susan
and Debby. The small baskets all had broad bands of the fragrant "sweet
hay" which grows on many islands of the St. John, but which very few
white people can find. Dora was much interested in the Milicete women,
with their soft voices and kind, quiet faces. She tried to learn some of
their words, and won their hearts by singing two or three songs in
French, a language which they all understood, though they spoke it in a
peculiar patois of their own.
The bright summer afternoon went all too quickly. Mrs. Merrithew was
anxious to reach home before too late an hour, so at five o'clock, after
tea and cakes, they "reembarked" for the return trip. The horses were
fresh, the roads good, the children just pleasantly tired. As they drove
on and on through magic sunset light and fragrant summer dusk, Dora
thought drowsily that this was a day she would always remember, even if
she lived to be as old as the dame who ate the innumerable apples.
"I will have such lovely things to write to father and mother about,"
she murmured, in sleepy tones,--and those were the last words she said
till the carriage stopped at the door of "the Big Brick House," and she
and Jackie were tenderly lifted out and half led, half carried up the
steps. Then she opened her eyes very wide and looked about her in
wonder.
"Why, I believe I _nearly_ went to sleep for a moment," she said.
And even Jackie woke up enough to laugh at that!