When Captain Rexford had decided upon buying a farm at Chellaston, he had had some correspondence with Principal Trenholme on the subject, having been put into communication with him by the widow of the relative at whose house Sophia and Trenholme had first met. This was the whole extent of the acquaintance. Of Sophia's step-mother and her numerous children Robert Trenholme knew nothing, save that a second family existed. Nor did Captain Rexford imagine that his eldest daughter had any distinct remembrance of a man whom she had so casually known. Fathers are apt to assume that they know the precise extent of their daughters' acquaintanceships, for the same reason that most people assume that what they never heard of does not exist. Yet when Trenholme actually repaired to the station at the hour at which Captain Rexford had announced his arrival, it was a fact that many of his leisure thoughts for a month back had been pointing forward, like so many guide-posts, to the meeting that was there to take place, and it was also true that the Rexford family—older and younger—were prepared to hail him as a friend, simply because their knowledge of him, though slight, was so much greater than of any other being in the place to which they were come—and everything in this world goes by comparison.
Now the main feature of the arrival of the Rexford family in Chellaston was that they brought their own carriage with them. It was an old, heavy carriage, for it had come into Captain Rexford's possession in the first place by inheritance, and it was now a great many years since he had possessed horses to draw it. From its long and ignominious retreat in an outhouse it had lately emerged to be varnished and furbished anew, in order to make the handsomer appearance in the new country. It had been one of the considerations which had reconciled Mrs. Rexford to emigration, that on a farm this carriage could be used with little extra expense.
Principal Trenholme had come to the station, which was a little way from the village, in a smart gig of his own. According to Captain Rexford's instructions, he had sent to the station a pair of horses, to be harnessed to the aforesaid carriage, which had been carefully brought on the same train with its owners. He had also sent of his own accord a comfortable waggon behind the horses, and he straightway urged that the family should repair in this at once to their new home, and leave the carriage to be set upon its wheels at leisure. As he gave this advice he eyed the wheelless coach with a curiosity and disfavour which was almost apparent through his studious politeness.
His arguments, however, and Captain Rexford's, who agreed with him, were of no avail. Mrs. Rexford, partly from sentiment, partly from a certain pathetic vanity, had set her heart on driving to the new home in the old carriage. Captain Rexford's eldest son had helped to get the vehicle off the train, and was now working steadily with one of the station hands to get it upon its wheels. It was assuredly such a carriage as that bit of Canadian road had never seen before. The station loiterers, sometimes helping in its arrangement, sometimes merely looking on, gazed at it with unwavering attention. Robert Trenholme gazed at it also, and at last felt obliged to give some more distinct warning of difficulties he foresaw.
"We have native horses," he said, with a good-humoured smile that leaped out of his eyes before it parted his lips; "we have horses, and we have ponies, and I am afraid that a pair of the one would be as serviceable in the long run as a pair of the other in drawing it on these roads. Are you getting out carriage-horses from England, Captain Rexford?"
The gentleman addressed continued to set the cushions in their places, but in a minute he went back into the station, where by a stove he found his wife and Sophia warming themselves, the smallest children, and a pot of carriage oil.
"You know, my dears, I never felt quite clear in my own mind that it was wise of us to bring the carriage." He held his hands to the warmth as he spoke. "Mr. Trenholme, I find, seems to think it heavy for these roads."
His wife heard him quite cheerfully. "In weather like this nothing could be more desirable," said she, "than to have one's own comfortably cushioned carriage; and besides, I have always told you we owe it to our children to show the people here that, whatever misfortunes we have had, we have been people of consequence." She added after a moment in conclusion: "Harold has brought the best grease for the wheels."
She had her way therefore, and in course of time the ladies, and as many of the children as could be crowded into the carriage, thus commenced the last stage of their journey. The others were driven on by Trenholme. As for the little boys, "a good run behind," their mother said, was just what they needed to warm them up.
They began running behind, but soon ran in front, which rather confused
Mrs. Rexford's ideas of order, but still the carriage lumbered on.