The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Julia K. Duncan

  “Favored—” remarked the judge, as he seated his guests at the dining room table. “Best plum preserves—my housekeeper must like your looks.”

  Madam Lovemore, who was just taking her accustomed place at the foot of the table, smiled indulgently at him, as one might smile at an outspoken child.

  The meal lasted a long time; for the judge wanted to hear all about their summer. Once he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen where he held a lengthy conversation with some unseen person.

  “Right away!” they heard him say, as he was about to re-enter the dining room.

  “We’ll go over—with you,” he said, when Jack proposed their departure, saying that they counted on staying in the house that night, living camp fashion until they had a chance to get the necessities. For an hour, René had been asleep on the horse-hair sofa, and Priscilla’s head kept nodding.

  “They’re tired, poor dears,” said Madam Lovemore compassionately, as she helped Desiré put their wraps on.

  When they went outside, they discovered that the world had completely changed its appearance. A thin layer of snow made the roads look like strips of white cloth; each dried weed, seed pod, and knot of grass had a spotless cap; and the outstretched arms of the firs held their light burden so tenderly that not a flake was shaken off.

  The judge was to drive over in the Ford, Madam Lovemore holding the still sleeping René in her lap.

  “He’ll be awful mad tomorrow,” volunteered Priscilla, who was now fully awake, “when he hears that he’s been riding in an automobile and didn’t know anything about it.”

  The judge laughed, a sudden explosion, over almost before it began.

  “In that case—you’d better come in here too; so you can tell him—what it felt like.”

  The little girl’s wistful look and tone had not been unnoticed by the judge; and though they were somewhat crowded, both he and his housekeeper gladly put up with the slight discomfort of an additional passenger.

  “Prissy is thrilled to death,” said Desiré to Jack, as they followed the Ford with as much speed as the tired horses were able to make.

  “Yes, but I wish you could have had a ride, too. You’ve always wanted one.”

  “Oh, some day I shall.”

  The headlights of the judge’s car, which had just turned off the main road into the lane leading to the Godet house, revealed the fact that all underbrush had been cleared away, and the road filled in. So occupied were they with the unexpected improvement, that not until they had stopped in front of the cabin did they notice that it was lighted.

  CHAPTER XXI

  A SURPRISE

  The judge, with René in his arms, ushered them inside.

  “Welcome—to Wolfville!” he cried, “and to the old Godet house.”

  Jack and Desiré stood quite speechless, and even the generally talkative Priscilla could find no words. They could only look while the judge and his housekeeper watched them smilingly, though very close to tears themselves.

  René broke the spell.

  “Oh—o—o!” he wailed, digging his fists into his eyes, still half asleep.

  “What’s the matter—young fellow?” demanded the judge, who still held him.

  “I didn’t finish my piece of cake!” wailed the child. He had dozed off at the table, before finishing his supper.

  They all laughed, while Madam Lovemore consoled René by promising him another piece the next day. Then the young Wistmores inspected their home.

  Partitions separated the cabin into three rooms: a large one, across one end, which was to do duty as a general living room, with a place for cooking at one end; and two small ones as sleeping quarters. The partitions and floors were painted a soft blue, which was relieved by the dark logs of the side walls and the beamed roof. Rag rugs lay upon the floor, a table occupied the centre of the living room, and around it were four ladder-back chairs. Beside the stone fireplace was a low wooden rocker and a high-backed upholstered one. Each bedroom had a fully furnished double wooden bed, and a wash stand. There was a bright fire in the fireplace; simple muslin curtains were hung at the windows; and a few pots of geraniums on a small stand added to the homelikeness of the place.

  “But—the furniture—” began Desiré, when she was able to put her thoughts into words. Jack was still too dazed to speak.

  “Gifts from the people of Wolfville to the children of the ancient Acadians,” replied the judge pompously.

  “We can never repay them,” faltered Jack.

  “Don’t want you to. They were glad—to do it. Liked idea—descendants to occupy old house—deserted for so long.”

  “Such a welcome I never dreamed of,” murmured Desiré. “I don’t see why people are so kind to us.”

  The judge and his good housekeeper exchanged smiles at her naive remark.

  “Why, don’t you want them to be?” demanded Priscilla in astonishment.

  “Of course,” answered her sister, attempting unsuccessfully to draw the child to her side; but Priscilla was too bent on inspecting article by article in her new home to have any time for cuddling just then.

  “Now you folks—had better—get to bed,” said the judge, preparing for departure. “You’ve had a hard day—lots of excitement. I’ll lead the team back with me. Will they follow—the Ford—do you think?”

  “I imagine so,” replied Jack. “They’re very gentle.”

  He followed the judge outside to help him with the horses, while Madam Lovemore bade an affectionate goodnight to her new friends.

  “Just run over any time anything bothers you, my dear,” she said to Desiré.

  “’N’ not no other time?” asked René, fearful of such an agreement working to his disadvantage.

  “Whenever you like—” began the housekeeper.

  “Don’t tell him that,” advised Desiré, “or you may see him oftener than you wish.”

  Meanwhile Jack was saying to the judge, “Of course I know that you are really the one to be thanked for all that,” waving his arm at the cozy, lighted cabin.

  “Not at all,” asserted the man stoutly. “The neighbors all helped. Liked it. Lots of fun.”

  “Yet they never would have known about us, or our needs, if you had not told them, and made suggestions. I just can’t express my very deep gratitude, especially on account of my little sisters. René can rough it, but I hate to have the girls deprived of ordinary comforts. Sometimes I wonder if I have done the right thing—”

  “One always wonders that—no matter what one does. Go in, boy,—and send my housekeeper out. Want to get home.”

  Housekeeping in the new home was a delight and a novelty, after the many weeks of camp life; and the Wistmores were very happy. Jack took Priscilla into Wolfville the second day after they arrived, and made arrangements for her to attend school, much to her chagrin, for she had hoped for a longer holiday.

  “No sense in her running about for days, and missing something which will cause trouble for her later,” Jack had said, when discussing the matter with Desiré. “While it is still pleasant, she can walk back and forth morning and afternoon, and carry her lunch. In winter, we’ll try to make some different arrangements.”

  After settling Priscilla, Jack consulted the judge about getting work for himself.

  “See what I can do,” he promised; and while he was waiting, Jack helped Desiré with the lessons she was trying to do by herself.

  The snow which had greeted them on their arrival disappeared almost immediately, and the beautiful days of Indian summer hovered over the valley of the Gaspereau. Jack and Desiré, sometimes accompanied by René, but oftener leaving him with his staunch admirer, Madam Lovemore, spent many hours rambling around the country after their work was done. It was a treat to both; for though they had much in common, they seldom had opportunities for private companionship, due to the constant demands of the younger members of the family.

  After a week of idling, Jack made some trips through the nearby countr
y with the wagon, but the day schedules were soon exhausted; and he began to be anxious about a different job. Some of the nearer neighbors began to drop in occasionally; so Desiré could not be his constant companion, and he grew restless.

  “The people within a day’s drive are too near Wolfville for this to be a very good place for a store like ours,” he told Desiré when he returned one afternoon after a rather profitless day. “One does not sell enough to pay for expenses. So I guess we’ll decide to put up the wagon and team for the winter. In the spring, as soon as the roads permit, I’ll have to take it back to old Simon at Yarmouth.”

  “Don’t you mean we’ll take it back, dear?” asked Desiré.

  “Perhaps; we’ll see when the time comes. I hope the judge will be able to find a job for me pretty soon; my own efforts are fruitless.”

  “Don’t worry; if we have to use up all of our little nest egg, we’ll do it; that’s all.”

  Desiré spoke bravely, but she felt sad to see Jack’s prospects of continuing his education retreat so far into the background as almost to disappear. The succeeding days were anxious ones. Jack roamed about, restless and worried, not having enough with which to occupy himself; for the weather had changed, and outdoor rambles were over for that year.

  One afternoon a heavy rain began to fall, and it looked as if it meant to continue indefinitely.

  “Poor Prissy will get soaked,” said Desiré, gazing out of the window for the fifth time.

  “I’ll go after her,” offered Jack.

  “But what good would it do for you to get soaked, too?”

  “None, I suppose. The poor kid ought to have a raincoat and an umbrella,” he muttered, half to himself.

  “I’ve been thinking about clothes, Jack, and it seems to me that we’ll have to draw some of what we got for the farm—”

  “But that’s in the bank at Yarmouth,” objected Jack quickly, “and you know we said it shouldn’t be touched except for sickness or other emergencies.”

  “I know, but this is an emergency; isn’t it? If we don’t buy a few necessary articles of clothing, we’ll run the risk of sickness, and that would be far more expensive.”

  “You’re right, of course. Make out a list of what we need, and then we’ll count the probable cost.”

  “We’ll do it together,” said Desiré, getting pencil and paper, and sitting down at the table beside her brother.

  They were so engrossed in their problem that they both jumped violently when there was a quick knock, and the judge stepped into the room, closely followed by Priscilla. René, who had been amusing himself in the corner with some toys which had been part of the “furnishings” of the cabin, darted across the room to fling himself upon the caller.

  “This is a—terrible day!” exclaimed the judge. “Thought the girl might—be drowned if—she tried to—walk home. So I hitched up the old Ford—and went after her.”

  Desiré began to express her gratitude, but he brushed aside her attempts.

  “Nothing to it—wanted to see this boy—anyhow,” taking the chair Jack offered him, and glancing up at the tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a smile which, as Priscilla said, made his face “all crinkled.”

  “Guess I’ve got—a job for you,” he continued. “Know old man Beaumont?”

  Jack shook his head gravely, though his heart rejoiced at the prospect of finding employment at last.

  “He’s been postman around here—for—I don’t know how many years. Too old now—but won’t give up; been trying to fix things—so he’d have a helper. Orders came couple of weeks ago—good job for you—if you want it.”

  “Want it!” repeated Jack. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I want it.”

  “Government furnishes a little wagon—you’ll use one of your own horses—that is until snow gets too deep. Then you’ll have to go on—on snowshoes. Have to go to town—to get your orders—better go now in my Ford.”

  So, in an excited bustle, Jack got ready and departed with the judge.

  “Don’t worry—about his getting wet,” the judge leaned far out of the car to call to Desiré, who was standing in the doorway, “I’ll bring him—back again.”

  It was supper time before they returned, and the rain had subsided for a time; but the judge refused to come in although Desiré ran out to the car and urged him to stay.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she added, leaning over the door after he had started the engine, “for getting Jack the job. He was so restless and worried, and almost unhappy; and when Jack’s upset, well—it just about kills me.”

  The judge’s keen eyes softened, and he patted her hand kindly, saying, “Run in, child—you’ll catch cold. Hear all Jack has to tell you.”

  He drove rapidly down the lane, and Desiré returned to her family. They spent a happy evening around the fire, making plans for the future. Now there would be no need of drawing on the previous funds for clothing!

  The next day the sun came out, and as soon as breakfast was over the whole family started out for Wolfville, picking their way carefully around the big puddles. They left Priscilla at school, and then went on to Judge Herbine’s to clear out the wagon preparatory to putting it up for the winter.

  “Where are you going to put all that?” asked Madam Lovemore, coming out in the midst of their labors, to look at all the stock spread on papers on the barn floor.

  “Some of it we’ll use ourselves, and the rest store until spring,” answered Desiré, who was busy sorting goods that would keep from those which would not, while Jack, with pencil and paper, was taking inventory.

  “There’s lots of room in the attic. Just take what you want to save up there. No use carting it down to your house, where you need all the space you have.”

  The judge had ambled in while she was talking, and strolled around, peering at first one pile and then another.

  “You’ve a day’s job here,” he observed. “When you hear the bell—come in to dinner.”

  By night the task was finished, and the wagon empty. The judge presented Jack with a shovel and an axe, saying, “Can’t travel without these in these parts in the winter time. You’ll want them—in the mail wagon. They’re going to send it down—in the morning.”

  Desiré looked at him in surprise.

  “Why will he need a shovel and an axe?” she asked.

  “Caught in storms sometimes—have to dig your way out—trees fall in high winds—only way is to chop your way through.”

  Throughout supper, to which the judge insisted upon their staying also, Desiré was very quiet; and on the way home she took little part in the children’s chatter.

  “What’s the matter, Dissy?” inquired Jack, after the younger ones were in bed.

  “Oh, Jack! I was so very glad when you got the appointment; and now I’m so afraid for you,” she whispered, dropping her head on his broad shoulder.

  “But why?” he asked in surprise, slipping his arm around her.

  “Because of the storms—the falling trees,” she choked. “I never thought of that part of it.”

  “But I’m strong and well, dear; and the work won’t hurt me. And I promise you that I’ll be very careful, and take no foolish chances. I don’t like to think of you sitting at home, nervous and unhappy, all the time I’m away. That would make the work much harder. So you’ll try to be brave, and not worry?”

  Desiré made a desperate effort to put aside her fears, and promised to do as Jack wished.

  CHAPTER XXII

  CAUGHT BY STORM

  Jack had seen the storm approaching as he was driving along a lonely road above a valley in the late afternoon, but it would have been about as far to turn back to the nearest shelter as it would to go on as fast as he could to the next. Urging the horses to do their best (for during the severe weather he was using the team), he drew up the robe, turned down the sides of his cap, and fastened up his coat collar. The snow came down faster and faster.

  “Good thing there’s no wind,
” he muttered; but even as he spoke a spiteful gust snatched up an armful of snow, and whirled it into his face. The horses did their best, but the road seemed endless; nothing could be seen except limitless stretches of white country, and trees whose branches sagged under their heavy loads.

  There was a sudden crash, and right across his way dropped a huge limb of a birch tree, stretching from one side of the road to the other. The horses stopped, snorting with fright, and when Jack had quieted them, he reached into the back of the wagon for the axe, and got out to clear a pathway. He dared not try to drive around it; for he could not tell, on account of the snow, just where the ground began to slope sharply away toward the valley; and he wasn’t really anxious for a roll down those hills.

  Chopping the way through was a hard task for one, and Jack had to stop very often to rest; by the time he finished, it was dark.

  “Well, now we’re going on,” he said cheerily, giving a pat to either horse as he passed their heads after dragging out the cut section of the tree. The patient animals had stood quietly, heads dropped, bodies relaxed, while he worked. He had thrown blankets across them, and the rest had given them a chance to get their wind again. So they threw themselves gallantly forward to their task, and soon pulled the wagon down into the valley.

  Here the road was not so good; for the snow had blown down the sides of the hills and settled in drifts, some small and fairly passable, others most difficult to plough through. Several times Jack had to get out and shovel before the horses were able to get the wagon any farther on its way. The lanterns on the wagon gave a fair light, with the help of the whiteness all about them, but the road became increasingly difficult to follow; and at last Jack had to admit to himself that he was lost. He had no idea which way to turn; but it was impossible to stand still for the night—they would be buried before morning if the snow kept on, and the horses would perish. Recalling various stories of the intelligence, or instinct, of animals under like circumstances, he decided to give the horses a loose rein and trust to Providence. The faithful beasts plodded on and on, while Jack strained his eyes through the whirling snowflakes, searching for signs of habitation.