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Updated: May 20, 2025
Upon the bluff of Wreckers' Head was to be dimly seen the sprawling Ball homestead. Tunis pointed it out to the passenger. "That is where you are going to be happy, Ida May," he said to her softly. "I wonder," murmured the girl. He looked down into her rapt face. The violet eyes were fixed upon the old house and the brown-and-green fields immediately surrounding it.
Like all robust personalities, she visited on others her vexations with herself. But Gyp did not go to sleep; she gazed now at her sleeping baby, now at the pattern of the wall-paper, trying mechanically to find the bird caught at intervals amongst its brown-and-green foliage one bird in each alternate square of the pattern, so that there was always a bird in the centre of four other birds.
There was no sky only a dark, ominous tent that draped in the tops of the streets and was in reality a vast approaching army of snowflakes while over it all, chilling away the comfort from the brown-and-green glow of lighted windows and muffling the steady trot of the horse pulling their sleigh, interminably washed the north wind. It was a dismal town after all, she though, dismal.
He watched her disappear, and when the brown-and-green wall of forest swallowed the slender gray form he fought against the insistent desire to follow her, and fought in vain. But Ellen Jorth's moccasined feet did not leave a distinguishable trail on the springy pine needle covering of the ground, and Jean could not find any trace of her.
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