Jane.
âWe could. Clever of you to think of that, Jane. I might have turned down our predestined house just because it was mud color. And we must have at least one window where we can see the gulf.â
âWill it be near the gulf?â
âIt must be. Weâre going up to the Queenâs Shore district. All the houses Iâve heard about are up there.â
âIâd like it to be on a hill,â said Jane wistfully.
âLetâs sum upâ¦a little house, white and green or to be made soâ¦with trees, preferably birch and spruceâ¦a window looking seawardâ¦on a hill. That sounds very possibleâ¦but there is one other requirement. There must be magic about it, Janeâ¦lashings of magicâ¦and magic houses are scarce, even on the Island. Have you any idea at all what I mean, Jane?â
Jane reflected.
âYou want to feel that the house is yours before you buy it,â she said.
âJane,â said dad, âyou are too good to be true.â
He was looking at her closely as they went up a hill after crossing a river so blue that Jane had exclaimed in rapture over itâ¦a river that ran into a bluer harbor. And when they reached the top of the hill, there before them lay something greater and bluer still than Jane knew must be the gulf.
âOh!â she said. And again, âOh!â
âThis is where the sea begins. Like it, Jane?â
Jane nodded. She could not speak. She had seen Lake Ontario, pale blue and shimmering, but thisâ¦this? She continued to look at it as if she could never have enough of it.
âI never thought anything could be so blue,â she whispered.
âYouâve seen it before,â said dad softly. âYou may not know it, but itâs in your blood. You were born beside it, one sweet, haunted April nightâ¦you lived by it for three years. Once I took you down and dipped you in it, to the horror ofâ¦of several people. You were properly baptized before that in the Anglican church in Charlottetownâ¦but that was your real baptism. You are the seaâs child and you have come home.â
âBut you didnât like me,â said Jane, before she thought.
âNot like you! Who told you that?â
âGrandmother.â She had not been forbidden to mention grandmotherâs name to him.
âThe oldâ¦â dad checked himself. A mask seemed to fall over his face.
âLet us not forget we are house-hunting, Jane,â he said coolly.
For a little while Jane felt no interest in house-hunting. She didnât know what to believe or whom to believe. She thought dad liked her nowâ¦but did he? Perhaps he was just pretending. Then she remembered how he had kissed her.
âHe does like me now ,â she thought. âPerhaps he didnât like me when I was born but I know he does now.â And she was happy again.
CHAPTER 16
House-hunting, Jane decided, was jolly. Perhaps it was really more the pleasure of the driving and talking and being silent with dad that was jolly, for most of the houses on dadâs list were not interesting. The first house they looked at was too big; the second was too small.
âAfter all, we must have room to swing the cat,â said dad.
âHave you a cat?â demanded Jane.
âNo. But we can get one if you like. I hear the kitten crop is tops this year. Do you like cats?â
âYes.â
âThen weâll have a bushel of them.â
âNo,â said Jane, âtwo.â
âAnd a dog. I donât know how you feel about dogs, Jane, but if youâre going to have a cat, I must have a dog. I havenât had a dog sinceâ¦â
He stopped short again, and again Jane had the feeling that he had been just on the point of saying something she wanted very much to hear.
The third house looked attractive. It was just at the turn of a wooded road dappled with sunshine through the trees. But on inspection it
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