"h.e.l.lo, Miss Denman;" and Priscilla, lowering her gaze from the steeple, saw in front of her Martine's brother, Lucian Stratford.

"I didn't expect to see you here by yourself," continued Lucian. "I thought that you girls were off somewhere together."

"We were," replied Priscilla, "but I just thought I would--do a little sightseeing alone."

"Well, I don't blame you," rejoined Lucian; "it's sometimes so hard to get Martine to take an interest in things. It used to be just so in Europe. We could never depend on her, so I don't blame you for keeping by yourself."

Priscilla made no reply. She really had no explanation.

"This is a funny little church, isn't it?" continued Lucian. "Fritz and I were over here the other day. Some one had told him about it. It's a little Dutch church, and almost as old as the city itself. It was built for the Lutherans, for in the beginning there were a lot of German settlers here in Halifax."

"Thank you," said Priscilla. "You are as good as a guide-book; one never expects a boy to take an interest in such things."

"I can't say that I do generally, only you remember that foggy afternoon when you girls were all so busy writing letters? Well, Fritz and I got tired of staying indoors browsing over books, so we started out. We went down to the great dry dock--though I don't suppose that you girls would care for that,--and we had a chance to go into old St. Paul's,--that's about as old as the city too, and makes you think of one of the queer, dingy London churches. It has any number of interesting tablets and memorials, and we planned to take you girls there before we go, and then walking about we just chanced on this little toy building. But I've got a suggestion for to-day," concluded Lucian. "You see, it's Sat.u.r.day, and one of the market days, so if you'd like to go, I'd be happy to take you down there. What do you say?"

"Why, yes, of course I'd like it. You are very kind to think of it."

Priscilla remembered that Amy had spoken of going to the market, and for a moment she regretted her absence.

Lucian Stratford, however, proved a surprisingly agreeable guide, and even before they had reached the Green Market Priscilla was quite ashamed of the little prejudice that she had once held against him.

"It's an old custom," Lucian explained, as the two stood in the middle of the street, "for the country people to drive in with their produce."

The market was in Post Office Square, and almost every foot of s.p.a.ce was occupied by some man or woman with something to sell. Indians, negroes, country people--it was a motley crowd and well worth seeing. The Indians for the most part sat on the sidewalk, bent over their wares, though here and there one or two leaned back against a building.

"We saw Indians like these at Bear River," said Priscilla, "only a little better dressed,--perhaps because it was a holiday. But these baskets are the best I've seen this summer."

Baskets and sweet gra.s.s were the stock in trade of these Indians, and some of the baskets were of odd designs and really artistic shapes.

"Do you really like them?" asked Lucian, and almost in the next breath he had laid three or four of the prettiest in Priscilla's arms.

"For Martine?" asked Priscilla.

"No, no, for you,--if you'll take them. There, let me carry them. I did not mean to load you down. Only I thought I might see something else."

"Oh, nothing more now, thank you. You are very kind, but these are really almost too much, and I can carry them myself--"

An old negro at this moment crossed their path, swinging a cane. They realized his nearness only when a sudden flourish of the stick sent Priscilla's baskets flying into the street. The negro, apologizing profusely, hastened to help Lucian collect the baskets, and Priscilla was pleased that Lucian showed no anger at the man's carelessness.

Instead, he began an animated conversation with the old fellow, and returned to Priscilla's side smiling broadly.

"The old man has been praising his son's wife's vegetables so warmly that we'll just have to go over there to see them. She is the fat darkey sitting in that cart yonder, and I hope we'll get off without buying her out."

The next moment Lucian was laughing and chaffering with the old negro's son's wife, and Priscilla gasped as she saw him pointing out turnips, carrots, and even summer squashes. She did not know him well enough to protest, and she only wondered how he meant to get the things home.

"They're all mine," he called to Priscilla, as she waited for him a short distance from the cart. Then he leaned over toward the old man and said something, and the negro hobbled off, smiling. In a moment he returned with a large pail, into which his son's wife heaped Lucian's purchases.

"There," said Lucian, as he returned to Priscilla's side, "won't Mrs.

Redmond and the others stare when they behold this load?" and he lifted the pail that Priscilla might the more readily admire its contents.

"But you don't intend to carry it through the streets?" There was a question in Priscilla's tone. Lucian glanced at her curiously. He had just been thinking how companionable she was, and now this Plymouth girl was going to show herself as narrow and conventional as others.

"I needn't carry it," he responded. "Perhaps Sambo here--is your name Sambo?"

"No, sir, my name's Mr. Malachai Robertson."

"Oh, excuse me, Sambo--I mean, Mr. Malachai Robertson--could you find me a good smart boy to carry this pail?"

Malachai looked at his stick--symbol of dignity--then at the young man, but at the same time he probably reflected that a fair fee was in sight; so he straightened himself up, reached over toward the pail, and with an "I'll carry it, sah," fell into line behind Lucian and Priscilla. Before the two, however, were quite ready to turn homeward, they lingered to watch the shoppers patronizing the Green Market, and buying supplies of vegetables and fruit.

"I only wish that Mrs. Redmond had come. It will be too bad if she misses it altogether--and Amy; the sun has come out so bright that she ought to be here to photograph some of these groups of colored people."

"Oh, the chance is that you will all be here in Halifax next Wednesday morning. The Market is here twice a week," responded Lucian. "Just now I suppose we ought to be turning home, as they are horribly prompt about meals at The Mayflower."

As the two walked up Hollis Street Priscilla noticed that some whom they met looked at them curiously. But only after she herself had thrown a backward glance over her shoulder did she realize the cause, for straight behind Lucian stalked Malachai, flourishing his cane after the fashion of a drum-major with his baton, while with the other hand he supported on his shoulder the pail of vegetables, balancing it with such a nicety that the carrots and squash and the large bunch of radishes kept their place on the top, though to the casual observer they seemed on the point of falling to the ground.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Behind Lucian stalked Malachai, flourishing his cane after the fashion of a drum-major."]

Had Priscilla been able to see herself she would have discovered that she, too, added to the gaiety of the group, for her baskets were even more brilliant in coloring than the vegetables, and as she had to carry them in her arms they made a rather startling display. Lucian had offered to take her load, but she had waved him away.

"No, a boy always finds it much harder to manage clumsy packages. These are not heavy; it's merely that they look awkward."

So Lucian had contented himself with buying three or four bouquets of the brightest flowers,--dahlias and garden asters chiefly,--and with both hands thus filled he made the procession more brilliant.

When they reached the house none of their party happened to be in sight, so, at Lucian's suggestions, Priscilla left her baskets on the sitting-room table while she went upstairs to find Mrs. Redmond. Amy's room adjoined her mother's, and as Priscilla stood there at Mrs.

Redmond's half-open door the sound of voices in the inner room floated out to her. For a moment she stood there listening, quite unconscious that she was eavesdropping, until a sentence in Martine's clear voice came to her.

"She certainly is a terrible trial, narrow minded and priggish, and I don't wonder, Amy, that you dislike her."

When Priscilla grasped this sentence in its entirety she turned about instantly.

"Did you find them? Are they coming down?" asked Lucian, cheerfully, as she rejoined him.

"I--I didn't; that is, I'm not sure," stammered Priscilla. "If you don't mind, I'll leave the baskets here. Perhaps you would give them to the others;" and before Lucian could stop her she had run upstairs again.

At the dinner-table Lucian looked anxiously at Priscilla. When she thought that no one was observing her, he caught her wiping away a surrept.i.tious drop of moisture. What could be the matter? Lucian racked his brains to decide if by any mischance he had in word or act offended Priscilla; but his conscience rea.s.sured him. He could not recall anything that might have annoyed her. On the contrary, up to the moment of their return to the house they had got along swimmingly--the latter phrase was his way of putting it.

"There's no accounting for girls," he said to himself. "I've known Martine to get dreadfully excited about nothing; but Priscilla Denman seemed such a sensible girl that I don't quite understand what the trouble is."

Before dinner had ended, however, Lucian decided that whatever it was that had disturbed Priscilla she did not blame him; for she turned to him with the utmost friendliness when he made some allusion to their morning walk, and between them they soon had the others at table laughing at their account of Malachai and the Green Market.

"I hope you paid the old man well for his trouble," said Martine; "for it probably was a great favor on his part to walk up Hollis Street toting a pail."

"Probably he paid him too well," rejoined Fritz, "unless he has changed his habits within the week. On our way from Yarmouth I tried to make Lucian see how demoralizing it would be to the natives to introduce the habit of tipping here."

"Oh, but one ought to pay for benefits received," said Lucian, "and I really do try to be prudent."

When dinner was over Lucian noticed that, as they left the room, Priscilla seemed to be trying to avoid Martine. She hardly replied to some question that the latter addressed her, and he saw other evidences that Priscilla did not care to speak to her.

After dinner Martine ran up to her brother.