A LITTLE JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD

Too Long; Didn't Read

Day was growing faintly visible through the window-pane, before I went to sleep, and then I had a troubled dream, none the less unpleasant, as is the way of dreams, because it was nonsensical. Uncle Horace’s new pair of calico colts were harnessed to the Dingo, the great brig that had been lost at sea, and Dave was attempting to drive this unique team over the rough ice of the river—as rough as it had been the day before, when it had broken Dr. Yorke’s skate. The Dingo’s cargo consisted of pots of dainty butter, stamped with clover and wild roses; a kind of sublimated sage cheese, sure to make the fortunes of Groundnut Hill Farm, and glasses of such jelly as never before were seen, with B. D., for Bathsheba Dill stamped upon every glass. And I knew, vaguely, that in all the great cities the fences and walls and lamp-posts were covered with placards advertising the products of Groundnut Hill Farm! “Bathsheba Dill’s Jelly! Buy no other!” I read and was proud. Suddenly I became aware that Dave was driving upon thin ice. The colts had changed into Alf Reeder’s race-horse, with fire streaming from his nostrils, and no one could stop him, not even Alice Yorke, although she appeared, skating along, and clutched at the reins. The ship, steed and driver, disappeared suddenly in the black waters of the river, and over the place where they had gone down Rob’s signal lantern swung weirdly, making a noise like the bell buoy down in the bay. Now, of course that was only what Loveday calls “a mince-pie dream,” but yet it haunted me, and its depressing influence would not be shaken off. Dave came home in the middle of the forenoon. We had earlier in the morning stopped Dr. Yorke as he drove by, and learned that Rob had had a distressing attack of asthma, but not worse and not more dangerous than he had had many times before. He was growing more and more dependent upon Dave. The doctor said that such suffering as his was very weakening to the nervous system. I hoped that Dave would get some sleep, but I heard him moving about in his room, and I went in to ask him about the shut-down at the shipyard, and how many men had been affected by it. In the midst of my practical plans for strangling the wolf at our own door, I was still anxious for the business honor of the family, and mindful of grandfather’s steadfast determination never to turn off any men in the middle of winter.