“Got many traps?”
“A small trunk apiece and some hand-luggage.”
The man rubbed his stubbly beard. “Wal, I guess I kin stow ye all away and I dunno as we’ll break down. It’s a big passel o’ folk to kerry all to oncet when there’s others wants to go, but git in all of ye, and them as don’t want to set inside kin set out.”
Immediately there was a rush of six figures toward the stage.
“Here, here,” cried the old man, “ye ain’t every namable one o’ ye going to git on top, air ye? The’ ain’t room for all of ye and the trunks.”
“Let some of the trunks go inside, then,” suggested Jo; “they are small,” she said, pausing in her act of mounting a wheel in order to clamber on top.
The old man fingered his bit of beard. “Wal, I dunno. Inside ain’t the place for trunks; it’s for passengers. Jest you wait a minute and I’ll see how big them trunks is and how many kin go on the rumble. Mebbe we kin make room for everybody. If ye wouldn’t be so everlastingly in a hurry ye’d have steps to climb up; they’ve got ’em up at the hotel.”
“Where’s the hotel?”
“Right ahead.” He pointed with his whip to a long white house, on the porch of which several persons were standing waiting for the stage.
“It’s more fun to climb up this way,” said Jack clinging to the side of the coach and feeling for the high step with her toe. “May I sit by you?” she asked over her shoulder.