Breakfast had been cooked, eaten, and the dishes washed before Mr. Daniel Chick and his venerable horse came up the lane.
Aunt Nancy was not only ready for the journey, but had begun to grow impatient because of the delay, when he reined up in front of the broad stone step as he said in a cheery tone, calculated to soothe any angry feelings,—
"Well, I must say you're a master hand at gettin' up, Aunt Nancy. 'Pears like as if you was allers on foot like a sparrer."
"I try to do what I have on hand in good season," was the rather sharp reply. "There would be less poor folks in this world if people didn't dally round in such a shiftless manner."
Mr. Chick knew full well that this remark was aimed especially at him; but like a wise man he made no reply lest worse should follow, and turned the wheels of the wagon that the little woman might have no trouble in clambering on board.
Aunt Nancy stopped only long enough to give some parting advice to Jack.
"Be sure to keep a sharp watch on the road if you have the doors open," she whispered, "and don't go out, even into the yard, unless it is absolutely necessary, for nobody knows what may happen. When you wash the best dishes be careful, Jack dear, for I should feel very badly in case any were broken."
"I'll attend to it in great shape, Aunt Nancy."
"Don't give Louis too much milk at a time, the weather is so hot that it might curdle on his stomach; and if I don't succeed in getting home until afternoon, there is some cold meat and cake on the hanging shelf in the cellar. Don't go without a lunch; it is very unhealthy to work while you are hungry."
"Who's dallying now, Aunt Nancy?" Mr. Chick cried as he tried to prevent his horse from nibbling at the honeysuckle-bush.