"I do say so," replied Mr. Bradford; "but what are we to do for to-night?"
Maggie and Bessie heard no more; for just then John Porter gave the word to his oxen, and they started off, leaving papa and Mr. Porter still talking.
What a pleasant ride that was: out of the field where the bars had been let down; past other fields ready, or nearly ready, for the harvesting; pale green oats, and golden wheat, the white, sweet-scented buckwheat, and the tall Indian corn; then through the orchard where a flock of sheep were feeding, past the locust grove, and then into the farmyard; stopping at last between the open doors of the great barn!
But, in spite of it all, our little girls were rather thoughtful as they jogged slowly on.
"Maggie," said Bessie, presently, "won't it be dreadful if papa can't get any one to take care of poor sick Dolly to-night?"
"Yes," said Maggie: "I wonder what she will do."
"If I was big, and mamma would let me, I'd go myself," said Bessie.
"Would you?" said Maggie; "well, I am afraid I wouldn't: so it's better that I am not big, 'cause then I needn't have a troubled conscience for not doing it."