They now flew over the ground at a rapid rate, until Willie began to scream.
"Oh, my hat! my hat!"
"Father, why don't you stop?" exclaimed Mrs. Royden, grasping her husband's arm.
"Whoa! whoa! What is the matter?"
"Willie's hat has blown off."
This seemed the climax of disasters. Willie's hat lay in the road, already forty yards behind. Mrs. Royden began to scold Sarah for not attending to the strings, and tying them so that it could not be lost.
Meanwhile Mr. Royden, struggling with his temper, got down and went back for the hat. On his return, his wife seized it, and, in no very pleasant mood, put it on Willie's head,—reprimanding Mr. Royden for moving so slowly.
"I have made up my mind that it is best never to be in a hurry," he replied, in a gentle tone.
However, he drove very fast, and arrived at the meeting-house steps shortly after the last peals of the bell died upon the air. Nothing he disliked more than to go in late; but he was a little cheered at seeing the Dustans, who lived so near, roll up to the graveled walks, in their grand carriage, while he was helping his family out.