Talk about picnics or barbecues, or parties where you have to wear your best clothes, or receptions where you have tea-cakes and ice-cream! Why, this banquet on top of the stage-coach, where no strange person could look over your shoulder, and no one tell you not to eat with your fingers, and not to tuck your napkin under your chin, like—like I don't know what—why, it was just simply a true fairy story, not one of the make-believe kind—the kind that grows out of the weariness of invention.
The feast was over much too soon, though all had had much more than was good for them. John Bell covered the treasure basket with a towel, and stowed it away in the big hollow place under the seat; then he beckoned to a negro who was helping with the horses. "Run down to the spring and fetch us some water, and be certain to get it out of the north side of the spring, where it is cold and sweet." The negro did this in a jiffy, and such water Adelaide had never before tasted. There was a whole bucketful, too. When they had all drunk their fill, Adelaide looked at Mr. Sanders and John Bell with a frown. "What can we do for you now, ma'am?" Mr. Sanders asked.
"Why, I want you to turn your heads away. Cally-Lou says she is nearly famished for water, and she won't drink when any one is looking."
All this being done, everybody was ready to go. Mr. Sanders got in the stage, declaring that he must have his own warm place, John Bell took the reins that were handed to him by the hostlers, gave a harmless swish with his long whip, and away they went to Shady Dale. It was all so strange, and so pleasant that Adelaide could have wished the journey to continue indefinitely. But after a while, the houses they passed became larger and more numerous, and then the stage-coach made its appearance on the public square that was one of the features of Shady Dale. It rolled and swung toward the old tavern, and just when Adelaide thought that John Bell was going to drive right into the house for her benefit, he gave a little twist to his wrist, and the leaders swung around. Even then it seemed that they would assuredly run headlong into the big mulberry tree, and trample to death the man who was leaning against it in a chair; but just as the leader was about to plant his forefeet in the man's bosom, John Bell sent another signal down the tightly held reins, and the leaders swung around until the child could look right into their tired faces. And, oh, the thrill of it! Adelaide felt that she could just hug John Bell, but the man who had made such a narrow escape from the horses' feet had an entirely different view of the matter.
"You shorely must be tryin' to show off," he growled to John Bell; "an' what for, I'd like to know? The next time you kill me, I'll have the law on you!"
"Quite so," remarked John Bell, with a grin that showed his white teeth. "But I want you to know that I've got company; let folks that ain't got company look out for themselves! Have you seen Mr. Jonas Whipple around here?"
"You don't want to run over old Jonas, do you?" replied the man. "All I've got to say is, jest try it! Old Jonas is a lot tougher than what I am."
"I'd run over him in a minnit if it would give my company any pleasure," said John Bell. "I've got a package for him that come all the way from Atlanta, an' I reckon the best thing to do is to take it right straight to his house. It's wropped in cloth, an' he's got to give me a receipt for it!"
"Oh, I know!" cried Adelaide, pouting a little; "you are talking about me!"
"Drive on!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, who was sitting on the inside of the stage-coach. "I'll have my ride out ef I have to set in here ontell to-morrer."