"A farmer," answered Bessie, "who lives up in the nutting woods has promised to take them to market."
"Oh," said Martin, "that reminds me of what I came for. Nelly knew I had to pass by here to-day with a letter, and she asked me to inquire if you would go nutting with her and me to-morrow. She wants to stop for another little girl too, I believe."
"Dolly?" said Bessie.
"I don't know," replied Martin, "what her name was. She said it was a girl who had the fever and ague."
"That's Dolly!" cried Bessie, joyfully, "Dolly has it awful. Just wait here a minute while I run ask mother if she can spare me."
She went skipping in the house, and in a short time her bare feet were heard skipping out again.
"Yes," she cried, triumphantly waving her sun-bonnet, "mother told me 'yes.'"
Martin now said he must go on and deliver his letter, and Bessie bade him good-by, and went back to her cresses. In a little while the basket was filled with the very finest the brook afforded, and she carried them in the house to place in water as her mother had directed.
The next morning, as the gray dawn came through the window of the room where she and her mother slept, Bessie awoke suddenly, and before she knew it she was sitting up in bed, drowsily rubbing her eyes. She had borne so well on her mind the appointment with the farmer, that she had awakened long before her usual time. She was a lazy girl generally, and liked very much to lie luxuriously in bed and think about getting up, without making an effort to do so. It was at least three hours earlier than it was her habit to rise, yet she did not stop to think of that, but bounded out and began her morning's ablution; her mother having always striven to impress upon her the great fact that "cleanliness is next to godliness." It was but a short time when, leaving her mother, as she thought, soundly sleeping, Bessie crept noiselessly as possible down the stairs that led to the kitchen, and there carefully packed her cresses for market. When the basket was full, she wrapped hastily a shawl around her, to protect her from the chilly autumn air of the morning, and ran out to the gate to place it, ready for the farmer, when he should come along in his wagon. She stood on the cross bars of the gate, and looked eagerly up and down the road, but she saw nothing as yet. The thought crossed her mind that Mr. Dart might already have passed the house, and finding no basket prepared for him, had driven on without it. But when she looked around, and saw how early it still appeared, how the gray was not gone from the sky, and the sun had not risen, nor the soft white morning mists yet rolled away from the mountains that lay to the left of the village, she was quite sure that she was not too late. She went back to the open door sill of the kitchen, which, being built in a small wing, fronted on the road, and sat down quietly on the sill. Presently she thought she heard the rattle of wheels, and the snapping of a whip. She ran to the gate, and looked in the direction from which it was to be expected the farmer would come, and there he was, seated on top of a load of turnips, trotting down the road as fast as old Dobbin could go, under the circumstances. He saw Bessie, and shook his whip over his head as a sort of salutation.