By seven o’clock Cricket felt quite as well as ever, and skipped and pranced, just as usual, along the road that led to Hilda’s home, while ’Manda followed, one broad smile of content.
Hilda was more than delighted to see Cricket, of course, and the little girls had a lovely time together. Hilda had been invited to go over to Marbury to stay for a week in August, with Cricket, at grandma’s, and, of course, the children were delighted to make arrangements for that important visit.
It was nine o’clock when Cricket and ’Manda returned to the farm-house, in the moonlight. It seemed odd enough not to go on up the hill when they came to the little bridge, but instead to turn in at the white gate, and Cricket felt a little spasm of homesickness, which increased when she was fairly inside the house, and ’Manda lighted the candle for her to go upstairs. How she did want mamma and Eunice! Fortunately, she was really too tired now, to think very much about anything but getting to bed.
The funny little spare-room had a huge bedstead in it, an old-fashioned one, with four posts and curtains, and an immense feather bed on it. When ’Manda lifted her up and swung her over into it, she sank so far down, that the sides rose on each side of her like billows, and the sheet, spread across, did not touch her at all. But she was in the Land of Nod almost before she could say a sleepy “Good-night” to kind ’Manda, and she knew nothing more.
It was six o’clock, and broad daylight, of course, when ’Manda came in to awaken her. Sleepy Cricket could hardly realize that there had been any night at all. She rubbed her drowsy eyes open with much difficulty, and ’Manda helped her through her toilet. ’Gustus John had to start for town by seven o’clock, and the wagon already stood in the yard, loaded up with vegetables and things for the market. ’Gustus John, himself, and one hired man, were coming to the house with pails of foaming milk, and another man was harnessing the big, black horses to the wagon.
Breakfast was over at last. The pails of strawberries were snugly tucked away under the front seat, and everything was ready to start. ’Manda gave her little guest many a parting hug and kiss, and said she didn’t see how she ever was going to stand it, not to have the doctor’s family at Kayuna, and the children junketin’ around, just the same as usual. Cricket hugged and kissed her in return, and then ’Gustus John swung her up on the high front seat, where she sat, holding on to the back, with her feet swinging above the pails of strawberries.
It always seemed delightfully dangerous on that front seat where there was no dash-board, and where there seemed to be nothing to prevent her lurching down on the horses’ broad backs if the wagon pitched over “thank-you-marms.” ’Gustus John, in his blue blouse and broad-brimmed hat, climbed heavily up beside her, gave a final glance over his load, cracked his whip, and off they started with a sudden jerk that brought Cricket’s toes very unexpectedly on a level with her head, and nearly sent her pitching back into the spring peas and asparagus.
It was a very different trip from the one they had taken last fall. ’Manda’s parting word to ’Gustus John was that he must be careful and not lose Cricket out, at which ’Gustus responded,—
“Sho!”
He never liked to be reminded of that accident. The horses settled down to their farm-work jog, not in the least like the brisk trot they had when they were harnessed to the light wagon. They knew quite well that they had a load behind them and a long pull before them, and took it easily.