“Tush-tush! little boys shouldn’t be so free with their tongues,” said Miss Sally, slapping the reins smartly up and down Billy’s back. “Land! when I was a little girl I always set in front on a basket like that when pa and ma took me ridin’.”
“Was it slippery?” asked Elyot, feeling a little less miserable since some one would talk, “just like this one?” patting it.
“Yes, just as like it as two peas. Sho, now, Billy! An’ I remember when pa took me to Cornwall Centre, and I never moved once on my basket, but sat just as pretty. An’ I didn’t muss my pelisse a mite. Don’t you remember their telling on’t when we got home, Belindy?” turning to her sister in pride.
“Yes, I remember,” said Miss Belinda, with a glance of veneration at the big square figure; “an’ I know ma alwus said you were a proper child to take away, Sally.”
“Didn’t you ask to get down once, and just stretch your legs just once?” asked Elyot, who felt that the time had now arrived when he must beg that favor.
“Oh, dear me, no!” said Miss Sally in horror. “Why, that wouldn’t have been proper, child. No, indeed, I just set pretty all the way.”
CHAPTER XII.
AT THE BEEBES.
WHEN they turned the corner of High Street, which was the former post-road of the old town, and began to descend its somewhat crooked slope, Elyot flew off from his basket, and began to shout excitedly, “Oh, there it is—there it is, oh, please stop!”
“Set down, child!” commanded Miss Sally sharply; and gathering the leather reins in one hand, she picked him energetically by the blouse. Miss Belinda exclaimed faintly, “Oh, he’ll fall out!” and put out her mitted fingers to help.
“You keep quiet, Belindy,” said Miss Sally brusquely; “you got one child to look after; I’ll see to this one. Now, set still,” to Elyot, “till we get there. Then, goodness knows I’ll be glad enough to let you out.”