Jessie looked inquiringly at me. Her face was swollen and her eyes red with crying.
“Yes, Jessie, do go. There’s no knowing when Joe will be back, and you—”
“Why, you’d better all come,” Mr. Horton interposed again. “There’s two seats in the wagon—plenty of room. Here, where’s the little shaver’s hat? Get your hat and climb in here, youngster.”
Ralph, who was enterprising and fearless, obeyed without protest. Peremptorily declining Mr. Horton’s invitation to sit with him, he took his station on the back seat, and from that vantage urged his sisters to make haste.
“Come, ’Essie, us yeady.”
Jessie ran in and got her hat, tossed her old coat over her shoulders without stopping to put her arms in the sleeves, and, by aid of the wheel, mounted to the seat beside Ralph. I, too, had put on my hat, but waited to secure the windows, and then to get the door-key. Mr. Horton, sitting silent on the front seat, observed my proceedings with interest; “You’re awful careful, ain’t ye?” he said, at length, and, in spite of his friendliness, it seemed to my sensitive fancy that there was a sneer in his voice. However, that did not greatly trouble me, for, from my slight speaking acquaintance with him before this, I had come to believe that he never spoke without one, so I replied, cheerfully:
“Yes; I guess I am careful enough.”
I had locked the door, and was approaching the wagon when Mr. Horton asked:
“Where’s your dog—you’ve got one, ain’t ye?”
“Guard? Yes, he’s with Joe. Why?”