“Well, I know that,” I said, “a wagon has four wheels, and a cart two.”
“Send I may live,” cried Ike. “Why, he is a clever boy. He knows a cart’s got two wheels and a wagon four.”
He said this in a low serious voice, as if talking to himself, and admiring my wisdom; but of course I could see that it was his way of laughing at me, and I hastened to add:
“Oh, you know what I mean!”
“Yes, I know what you mean, but you don’t know what I mean, and if you’re so offle clever you’d best teach me, for I can’t teach you.”
“But I want you to teach me,” I cried. “I’ve come here to learn. What is there in particular in loading a cart?”
“Oh, you’re ever so much more clever than I am,” he grumbled. “Here, len’s a hand with that barge.”
This was to the man who was helping him, and who now seized hold of another basket, which was hoisted into its place.
Then more baskets were piled up, the light flower barges being put at the top, till the cart began to look like a mountain as it stood there with the shafts and hind portion supported by pieces of wood.
“Look ye here,” said Ike, waving his arms about from the top of the pile of baskets, and addressing me as if from a rostrum. “When you loads a cart, reck’lect as all your weight’s to come on your axle-tree. Your load’s to be all ballancy ballancy, you see, so as you could move it up or down with a finger.”