But it didn't look romantic to Wendell Phillips just then—his chum had failed him—the weather was cold, two days of hard jolting lay ahead. And—"Ah! yes—it is Miss Greene! and Miss Grew, and Mr. Alvord. To Greenfield? why, how fortunate!"
Obliging strangers exchanged seats, so that our friends could be together—passengers found their places on top or inside, bundles and bandboxes were packed away, harness-chains rattled, a long whip sang through the air, and the driver, holding a big bunch of lines in one hand, swung the six horses, with careless grace, out of Bowdoin Square, and turned the leaders' heads toward Cambridge. The post-horn tooted merrily, dogs barked, and stableboys raised a good-by cheer!
Out past Harvard Square they went, through Arlington and storied Lexington—on to Concord—through Fitchburg, to Greenfield.
It doesn't take long to tell it, but that was a wonderful trip for Phillips—the greatest and most important journey of his life, he said forty years later.
Miss Grew lived in Greenfield and had been down to visit Miss Greene. Mr. Alvord was engaged to Miss Grew, and wanted to accompany her home, but he couldn't exactly, you know, unless Miss Greene went along.
So Miss Greene obliged them. The girls knew the day Phillips was going, and hastened their plans a trifle, so as to take the same stage—at least that is what Charles Sumner said.
They didn't tell Phillips, because a planned excursion on the part of these young folks wouldn't have been just right—Beacon Hill would not have approved. But when they had bought their seats and met at the stage-yard—why, that was a different matter.
Besides, Mr. Alvord and Miss Grew were engaged, and Miss Greene was a cousin of Miss Grew—there!
Let me here say that I am quite aware that long after Miss Grew became Mrs. Alvord, she wrote a most charming little book about Ann Terry Greene, in which she defends the woman against any suspicion that she plotted and planned to snare the heart of Wendell Phillips, on the road to Greenfield. The defense was done in love, but was unnecessary. Ann Terry Greene needs no vindication. As for her snaring the heart of Wendell Phillips, I rest solidly on this: She did.
Whether Miss Greene coolly planned that trip to Greenfield, I can not say, but I hope so.