“I guess I'll get wet,” said Toby, ruefully, as he looked up at the lofty seat which he was to occupy.
“Bless me!” said Ben, as if the thought had just come to him, “it won't do for you to ride outside on a night like this. You wait here, an' I'll see what I can do for you.”
The old man hurried off to the other end of the tent, and almost before Toby thought he had time to go as far as the ring he returned.
“It's all right,” he said, and this time in a gruff voice, as if he were announcing some misfortune; “you 're to ride in the women's wagon. Come with me.”
Toby followed without a question, though he was wholly at a loss to understand what the “women's wagon” was, for he had never seen anything which looked like one.
He soon learned, however, when Old Ben stopped in front—or, rather, at the end—of a long, covered wagon that looked like an omnibus, except that it was considerably longer, and the seats inside were divided by arms, padded, to make them comfortable to lean against.
“Here's the boy,” said Ben, as he lifted Toby up on the step, gave him a gentle push to intimate that he was to get inside, and then left him.
As Toby stepped inside he saw that the wagon was nearly full of women and children; and fearing lest he should take a seat that belonged to someone else, he stood in the middle of the wagon, not knowing what to do.
“Why don't you sit down, little boy?” asked one of the ladies, after Toby had remained standing nearly five minutes and the wagon was about to start.
“Well,” said Toby, with some hesitation, as he looked around at the two or three empty seats that remained, “I didn't want to get in anybody else's place an' I didn't know where to sit.”