I'm going home."
"Don't you think you had better come with me now?" asked Rilla
doubtfully. Nobody knew yet how Mr. Pryor had taken the matter.
"No. If Joe can face the Huns I guess I can face father," said Miranda
daringly. "A soldier's wife can't be a coward. Come on, Wilfy. I'll go
straight home and meet the worst."
There was nothing very dreadful to face, however. Perhaps Mr. Pryor had
reflected that housekeepers were hard to get and that there were many
Milgrave homes open to Miranda--also, that there was such a thing as a
separation allowance. At all events, though he told her grumpily that
she had made a nice fool of herself, and would live to regret it, he
said nothing worse, and Mrs. Joe put on her apron and went to work as
usual, while Sir Wilfrid Laurier, who had a poor opinion of lighthouses
for winter residences, went to sleep in his pet nook behind the woodbox,
a thankful dog that he was done with war-weddings.
CHAPTER XIX
"THEY SHALL NOT PASS"
One cold grey morning in February Gertrude Oliver wakened with a shiver,
slipped into Rilla's room, and crept in beside her.
"Rilla--I'm frightened--frightened as a baby--I've had another of my
strange dreams. Something terrible is before us--I know."
"What was it?" asked Rilla.
"I was standing again on the veranda steps--just as I stood in that
dream on the night before the lighthouse dance, and in the sky a huge
black, menacing thunder cloud rolled up from the east.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258