“It’s a commercial war when all is said and done and not worth one drop of good Canadian blood,” said a stranger from the shore hotel.
“The Blythe family are taking it easy,” said Kate Drew.
“Them young fools are just going for adventure,” growled Nathan Crawford.
“I have absolute confidence in Kitchener,” said the over-harbour doctor.
“‘It’s a long, long way to Tipperary,’” hummed Rick MacAllister.
In these ten minutes Rilla passed through a dizzying succession of anger, laughter, contempt, depression and inspiration. Oh, people were—funny! How little they understood. “Taking it easy,” indeed—when even Susan hadn’t slept a wink all night! Kate Drew always was a minx.
Rilla felt as if she were in some fantastic nightmare. Were these the people who, three weeks ago, were talking of crops and prices and local gossip?
There—the train was coming—mother was holding Jem’s hand—Dog Monday was licking it—everybody was saying good-bye—the train was in! Jem kissed Faith before everybody—old Mrs. Drew whooped hysterically—the men, led by Kenneth, cheered—Rilla felt Jem seize her hand—“Good-bye, Spider”—somebody kissed her cheek—she believed it was Jerry but never was sure—they were off—the train was pulling out—Jem and Jerry were waving to everybody—everybody was waving back—mother and Nan were smiling still, but as if they had just forgotten to take the smile off—Monday was howling dismally and being forcibly restrained by the
