“It’s a clergyman’s wife and children,” said the clerk, in a lower tone.
“O, well,” replied the other, rising to his feet, “they shall go along, pay or no pay;” and he followed the clerk, who introduced the parties to each other with,–
“Mr. Sawyer–Mrs. Payson. He will take you as far as he goes.”
“And how far is that?” she inquired.
“About twenty miles.”
“But how shall I get over the remainder of the distance?”
“Don’t be concerned about that,” replied the man, heartily. “I guess there’ll be a way to forward you all right.”
And in a half hour his team was before the door, waiting to take her farther into the wilderness. A pair of stout iron-grays harnessed into a long, open wagon, affording space for a large variety of boxes and packages, and three rows of cushionless seats, constituted the conveyance. Its owner had been on a trading expedition, but, with an eye to “the main chance,” was prepared to catch some of the travel going westward. The wagon was crowded with passengers; and, disposing of the three children,–a 118 delicate, intelligent little boy and his two sisters–in the laps of those already seated, the teamster assisted the mother to a seat at his side. Their presence, it was evident, excited much interest; for the manner and dress of the little family betrayed New England birth and culture.
“Your husband,” said the owner of the conveyance, as his horses trotted sturdily along, “rode up with me the other day. He had been down to the Mississippi waiting for you a whole week, and the landlord at McGreggor’s Landing said he was the bluest man he ever saw, because you did not arrive.”
“I am sorry that he was anxious on my account,” replied the wife, with a merry laugh. “He didn’t wish me to venture on the journey alone with the children, and wrote that he would return for me if I could not find suitable company; but, not wishing to take him from his labors, I packed up, and took our darlings along.”