"You can't blame me," cried Mr. Bayley in an injured way. "That cad of a Loughead means to speak soon—'pon me word, the fellow does. And I've never changed my mind about it since I made it up, even when you began to give music lessons."
"Oh, how extremely kind," cried Polly.
"Don't put it that way," he began deprecatingly. "I couldn't help it, don't you know, for I liked you awfully from the first, and always intended to marry you. You shall have everything in the world that you want, and go everywhere. And my family, you know, has an entree to any society that's worth anything."
"I wouldn't marry you," cried Polly stormily, "if you could give me all the gold in the world; and as for family," here she sat quite erect with shining eyes, "the Peppers have always been the loveliest people that ever lived—the very loveliest—oh"—she broke off suddenly, starting forward—"there's something on the road; see, Mr. Bayley!"
And spinning along, the horse now making up his mind to get to the depot in time, they both saw a big wagon out of which protruded two or three bags evidently containing apples and potatoes; one of the wheels determining to perform no more service for its master, was resting independently on the snowy thoroughfare, for horse and driver were gone.
"I beg your pardon," exclaimed Mr. Livingston Bayley suddenly, at sight of this, "for bringing you around here. But how was I to know of that beastly wreck?"
"We must get out," said Polly, springing off from her side of the sleigh, "and lead the horse around."
But this was not so easy a matter; for the farmer's wagon had stopped in the narrowest part of the road, either side shelving off, under its treacherous covering of snow. At last, after all sorts of ineffectual attempts on Mr. Bayley's part to induce the horse to stir a step, Polly desperately laid her hand on the bridle. "Let me try," she said. "There, you good creature," patting the horse's nose; "come, that's a dear old fellow," and they never knew quite how, but in the course of time, they were all on the other side of the wreck, and Mr. Livingston Bayley was helping her into the sleigh, and showering her with profuse apologies for the whole thing.
"Never mind," said Polly, as she saw his distress, "only never say such perfectly dreadful things to me again. And now, hurry just as fast as you can, please!"
And presently a swift turn brought the twinkling lights of the little station to view, and there was the entire party calling to them as they now spied their approach, to "Hurry up!" and there also was the train, holding its breath in curbed impatience to be off.