But no one “heaving along” for a good half-hour, the old farmer was just about to turn his old gray horse in despair, when an ancient gig appeared, whose swaying top gave him a delicious hope long before it came within talking distance; and he cried joyfully, “Well, if this here ain’t luck! Now, there’s Miss Sally an’ Belindy Scrannage a-goin’ over to Badgertown of course.”
Long before the old gig got alongside the wagon, the farmer had begun to shout out the story; and by the time it was all over, Miss Belinda, who wasn’t driving, had made a place on the old leather seat between her sister and herself; and sleepy little Barby being set thereon, the small head was cuddled up against that lady’s spencer waist, with one mitted hand put carefully around the little figure to hold her close.
“You get up an’ set on that basket,” said Miss Sally, who held the reins, and who was always under the impression that the ancient horse was just going to run away. “It’s good we took the flat-covered one to-day; ’twon’t hurt it; there’s some garden-sass we’re a-carryin’ to our folks in Badgertown. There, get up.”
“Can’t I sit on behind?” begged Elyot, who didn’t view the basket with great affection. It would be fine to swing his legs in freedom, instead of being cooped up with the old ladies.
“No, you can’t,” said Miss Sally with authority; “we might drop you off and never know it. I’m a-goin’ to have you where I can see you. Get in, an’ set still.”
“They’re to go to Mr. Beebe’s shoe-store, ye know, on High Street,” roared the old farmer after them from his high wagon.
“Yes, yes, we’re goin’ right past there,” called back Miss Sally in a thin, high voice, firmly grasping the reins, and keeping an eye for danger ahead. “Go easy there, Billy.”
Elyot, from his perch on the flat basket, with his back to Billy, surveyed her carefully. He could tell by the big mole on her chin that it was no one whom he had ever seen before. He was quite sure he should have remembered that mole; and then he looked Miss Belinda over. Meantime he had to cling to the basket tightly; for the cover, even though flat, was quite slippery, and Billy had a way of putting his heels down unexpectedly with a thud, and not always so evenly as one ought to expect.
“Now, ain’t that a nice seat?” asked Miss Sally briskly, when they had plodded along in this fashion for a mile or so.
“No; I do not think it is,” said Elyot, hanging on, and wishing he could turn around, or jump out and rest his legs just once.