He was planning to spend the winter two hundred miles
to the west, in the country of the Athabasca. He was at Lac Bain for a
week, and during this time a mail-runner came in from Fort Churchill.
The runner brought a new experience into the life of Melisse--her
first letter. It was from young Dixon--twenty or more closely written
pages of it, in which he informed her that he was going to spend a
part of the approaching winter at Lac Bain.
She was reading the last page when Jan came into the cabin. Her cheeks
were slightly flushed by this new excitement, which was reflected in
her eyes as she looked at Jan.
"A letter!" she cried, holding out her two hands filled with the
pages. "A letter--to me, Jan, all the way from Fort Churchill!"
"Who in the world--" he began, smiling at her; and stopped.
"It's from Mr. Dixon," she said, the flush deepening in her cheeks.
"He's going to spend part of the winter with us."
"I'm glad of that, Melisse," said Jan quietly. "I like him, and would
like to know him better. I hope he will bring you some more books--and
strings." He glanced at the old violin. "Do you play much?"
"A great deal," she replied. "Won't you play for me, Jan?"
"My hands are too rough; and besides, I've forgotten all that I ever
knew.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191