But Martine was getting herself into deep water, and her floundering amused Amy, although she maintained a grave face, as she said:

"Style is not confined to dress; other things are considered just as important by the true critic. However, I'm glad that you admire Brenda, for you'll be the more interested in her letter.

"'Your account of what you have seen in Nova Scotia is perfectly fascinating. But you haven't told me how you like those funny little brown fish that they call Digby chickens, that have a flavor made up of smoked ham and salt cod; you can fancy how surprised I was when I ordered them, for I thought they'd be real chickens. We didn't see any French in Nova Scotia; I can't imagine where you found them. Are they the real thing? or do they speak with a Stratford atte Bow accent?

"'How different this summer is from last, when we were all so worried about Arthur and the Spanish War,--at least, I was. It is just a year since I was so very ill, and now I am perfectly happy. I feel quite ridiculous when they ask me to chaperone parties of girls who are older than I until I remember that I am really an old married woman and quite settled.

"'It is all I can do to prevent Arthur's going to the Philippines; he really has the war fever, and I wonder what will come of it all. Next month he is to make an address at some reunion of Spanish War Veterans; doesn't it seem absurd to call him a veteran? Tim McSorley is at Manila. Maggie is down here at Rockley with us this summer, and you haven't an idea how useful she is. My mother says that the way she does things is recommendation enough for the Mansion School, and that if Julia needed to earn money she would make a small fortune training girls.

"'I had a letter yesterday from Happy Hill,--you know that's the name of the farm where she has the girls this summer.

They are nearly all new girls, who do not interest me as much as the others who were there my year. Norah is with Julia this summer; but there, I'm telling you things that are no news to you, and in fact I have very little news of any kind to write; but I hope you'll give my love to your mother and Priscilla, and Miss Stratford and I only hope that you are as strict with them as you can be some times, when you want people to get all the information they can out of a trip.

"'Oh, that reminds me. I hear that Fritz Tomkins is in Nova Scotia; you do not mention him in your letter, but you must be delighted to have him with you. Of course four women can get along perfectly well, but if anything should happen, it is so much better to have a man in your party; and Fritz is so like a brother that I'm sure you can make him very useful. With love to all,

"'Sincerely, "'BRENDA WESTON.'"

Amy had read the whole letter aloud without realizing how personal it was, for her original intention had been only to read that part relating to Nova Scotia.

"That sounds just like Brenda," she said to the girls, "and I'm glad that she's so happy, for last summer was a miserable one for her."

"It was for all of us," murmured Priscilla.

And then Amy suddenly realized that the Spanish War was a subject too sore for her to touch on in Priscilla's presence.

"Come," she said, "one last look at old Port Royal. We shall have several farewell calls to pay to-day and to-morrow, and we may not have time to return to the Fort."

"Amy," said Martine, "I know I'm very stupid, but I'd really like to know where Port Royal ends and Fort Anne begins. Some one told me that this is really Fort Anne, but you always speak of it as Port Royal; so just to gratify my curiosity I'm willing to listen to a little more history."

"Then I'll give you as much, or rather as little, as I can to make you understand some of the happenings at this Fort in the early days. I am sorry that I cannot go at all into details about the many sieges and expeditions against the Fort in the seventeenth century. The quarrels of D'Aunay and Charles de La Tour form a most exciting series of episodes, and you must read them at length in Parkman or some other history.

Although theirs was not warfare between French and English, La Tour was a Huguenot, and in a general way the English were on his side. In fact, he once came down to Boston and interested Winthrop and others in his cause. In the end I suppose La Tour may be considered to have been the conqueror; at least, he survived D'Aunay, and later married for his second wife D'Aunay's widow. Port Royal was captured by Cromwell's fleet in 1654, and a few years later, in the reign of Charles II, was given back to France. In 1690, when England and France were again at war, De Menneval, the governor of the Fort, had to surrender to Sir William Phipps, and the account of this expedition you will surely read sometime, for Phipps was a New Englander and his career most interesting."

"The New Englanders seem to have had a special spite against Acadia,"

said Martine; "so it isn't strange, Priscilla, that you have inherited part of it."

"Oh, no, I haven't; only if I must choose I naturally prefer what is English to what is French."

"After all that Phipps thought he had accomplished," continued Amy, "Acadia was again handed back to France; but I will pa.s.s over other attacks to remind you of what you have doubtless read many times in your school histories, that, when the Treaty of Utrecht settled the wars between Queen Anne and Louis XIV, Acadia was given to the English. Since that time the fort has been Fort Anne and the town Annapolis."

"It's no wonder," said Martine, "that the Acadians hardly knew whom to obey, when they'd been handed over from one side to another so often."

"This does account for much of the misunderstanding that finally led to their deportation. They trusted too implicitly in the French King, and for a long time vainly hoped that he would conquer the English and make them again his subjects."

Hardly had Amy finished when a boyish voice was heard crying, "Good-morning, good-morning. Is it really true that you're starting North to-day?"

"No, not to-day; we have still a day or two left before we set out for Grand Pre; we are going over to see your mother this afternoon."

"I'm glad of that," responded Balfour, "for I'm to have a day off, or rather an afternoon, and I wanted to be sure of your plans."

Balfour did not explain that he had asked for this special holiday in order to have some time with his new friends.

"You won't spend the whole afternoon with my mother," he began awkwardly,--"at least, not all of you,--and so I thought that perhaps some of you would go for a drive with me."

"I am going to stay with Eunice," said Priscilla; "it will be our last day together."

Martine said nothing.

Then Balfour turned to Amy:

"Would not you and Miss Martine drive with me? I can take you to one or two out-of-the-way places that you probably haven't visited."

"Surely," responded Amy, "that will be delightful. I can go, and with pleasure. As for Martine, she must speak for herself."

Amy had no doubt as to Martine's desire, so that it was hardly necessary for her to await a reply.

"Why, of course," replied Martine; "there's nothing I'd like so well."

CHAPTER XIV

AN EXCURSION

Balfour, when the three started on their afternoon expedition, was in a particularly happy frame of mind.

"There's one advantage in working all summer--a half holiday seems ten times more valuable now than usually. Not that I'm working hard this summer, only my days are not my own, and I can seldom make plans; besides, I do begrudge the time that I have to take from study."

"Then you will probably think to-day wasted."

"No, indeed; besides, we are going to study nature, and--"

"A little French history," interposed Martine. "Did you not say that you would take us to an old battleground?"

"Yes, I hope to, for my steed is not like Jill. We can depend on getting somewhere with Lion, whereas Jill--"

"Mr. Frazer would say that she went fast enough the day he rode her in my company."

"It's a great thing for a horse to know when to stop, as well as when to go on. Whoa, Lion! There, we can leave him standing while we go up that little hill. It's said to be the site of an ancient French church. It may interest you."

Amy and Martine loudly praised the beauty of the scenery as they stood on the elevated land above the narrow, winding river.

"They say that a church stood here in the earliest French days, with a set of silver bells that rang out most musically over the water. Then, when the church fell to pieces, the bells sank into the earth, and are hidden somewhere underground,--and any one who likes may dig for them."

Martine began to prod in the earth with her parasol.

"Come, my dear, we won't have time to-day, and you need a crowbar rather than that tiny stick. If you found them they would be rather too clumsy to carry home;" and Amy laid her hand on Martine's arm.

"I'd rather look for Apostle spoons," replied Martine. "I heard of a woman who dug up two in her garden, and when she saw how dirty they were, threw them into a kettle of lye that she happened to have boiling for soap, or something of that kind. She almost lost her head when the ugly lead things came out looking like gold, for they were silver washed with gilt. If she found such things, why not I, for it's a true story, isn't it?" turning to Balfour.