"Good morning, ma'am," said the professor. "Won't you get in and ride? It's easier riding than walking."
The old women scanned his countenance and answered: "Thank you, sir, I'm obleeged to ye. I don't mind if I do."
She was assisted into the carriage and sat at one end of the seat, Harry being in the middle.
"I was going to see my darter, Nancy," said the old women. "Mrs. Nehemiah Babcock her name is. Mebbe you know her husband."
"I don't think I do," said the professor.
"He's got a brother in Boston in the dry goods business. Mebbe you've been at his store."
"Mebbe I have."
"I ginerally call to see my darter—her name is Nancy—once a week; but it's rather hard for me to walk, now I'm getting' on in years."
"You're most eighty, ain't you?" appeared to proceed from Harry's mouth. Our hero's face twitched and he had hard work to keep from laughing.
"Indeed, I'm not!" said the old lady, indignantly.