They said
little, but Catherine and Tom talked of it in all innocence. Supposed
clues were reported, but they led to nothing and were soon abandoned.
The baffling mystery of it remained and throughout that entire season
cast its shadow on the community. It passed from the minds of us young
people much sooner than from the minds of our elders. In the rush of
life we largely ceased to think of it; but I am sure it was often in the
thoughts of the old Squire and grandmother. With them months and even
years made little difference in their sense of loss, for no tidings
came--none at least that were ever made public; but thereby hangs the
strangest part of this story.
The old Squire, as I have often said, was a lumberman as well as a
farmer. For a number of years he was in company with a Canadian at Three
Rivers in the Province of Quebec, and had lumber camps on the St.
Maurice River as well as nearer home in Maine. After the age of
seventy-three he gave up active participation in the Quebec branch of
the business, but still retained an interest in it; and this went on for
ten years or more. The former partner in Canada then died, and the
business had to be wound up.
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