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Updated: June 14, 2025
On a morning when the white-goods counter was placing long-sleeve, high-necked nightgowns in its bargain bins, and knit underwear was supplanting the reduced muslins, Sara Juke drew her little pink-knitted jacket closer about her narrow shoulders and shivered shivered, but smiled. "Br-r-r! October never used to get under my skin like this."
"But why do you say 'br-r-r! under your breath?" he asked. "Co-old before morning, ver' cold!" "I know, but we'll be snug in bed, and won't feel it. You Canadians wouldn't have so much consumption if you breathed purer air when you slept." "Oui!" was the polite reply; and nothing more was said. Long before dawn Ray sprang from bed, closed the door and stirred up the fire.
I strode past the old saw-mill, skirted the swampy border of the lake, came out on the firm green, when bing! zim! br-r-r! a heavenly bolt of sunshine smashed through the raw mists, scattering them like a bomb to the horizon's rim; then with sovereign calm the sun came out full, flooding hill and dale with luminous joy; the lake shimmered and flashed into radiant life, and gave back a great white cloud-island on a stretch of glorious blue, and all that golden warmth stole into my veins like wine.
"Why didn't you tell me that before? That's what comes, you see, of not introducing people. I'll tell you one thing, Wallie. She's awfully handsome. But you always had good taste. Br-r-r, there's a draught cutting my head off. You might shut that window, there's a dear." He shut it. "And put my cup down." He put it down. Anne saw him. She had seen everything. "And help me on with my cape."
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