The ladies laughed and nodded, and Father said, “Listen, Lydia.”
There was a sound of crunching gravel and the roll of wheels, and then round the corner of the house stepped a little dark-brown pony, drawing a light wicker basket wagon after him, and led by Alexander, who tried in vain to repress a proud smile.
“This is thy medicine, Friend Lydia,” said Friend Morris, coming forward to the veranda steps, “a medicine that will bring back rosy cheeks to thee, I hope. Every day thee is to go for a ride—”
But Friend Morris got no farther, for Lydia lurched forward in Father’s arms and caught her round the neck.
“I love thee, Friend Morris,” she whispered, “and I love thy medicine. And I will lend thee Lucy Locket for a whole day, and give thee three green candies for good luck beside.”
“I thank thee, little Quaker,” answered Friend Morris with a laugh, straightening her cap and patting Lydia’s cheek. “Now, Alexander has a lump of sugar for thee to give Maggie, and then he will take thee for a ride.”
So Lydia rather timidly fed Maggie a lump of sugar, and then Alexander drove her in triumph down the River Road as far as the village, where he bought a little whip with a red ribbon to be stuck in the front of Maggie’s cart, but never to be used on her, at Lydia’s earnest request.
And every pleasant day after that, Lydia went for a drive with Mother or Father or Alexander. One day Friend Deborah drove Lydia far up a shady back country road in search of a woman who wove rag rugs. Friend Morris wanted to order two blue-and-white rugs for the upper hall. The rug woman stood at her gate as she bargained with Friend Deborah, and Lydia could only stare at her in amazement, for the woman’s hands were bright blue! She could scarcely wait until Maggie was trotting homeward to ask Friend Deborah if she had seen them, too.
Friend Deborah laughed.
“It’s because she dyes, Lydia,” said she.