"Why, Phil," said Tad, "it's some of them travellin' carts the tramps and gipsies use, ain't it?"
"Looks like 'em," replied Phil. "I wonder if the people would give us a lift just to the next town or wherever it is they're goin'!"
"Let's ask 'em," said Tad. "See, there's the first cart quite near."
"Shall we go and speak to that man walkin' at the horse's head?" asked Phil.
"You go, Phil. You speak their lingo best," rejoined Tad.
Phil accordingly left his companion's side, and stepping into the middle of the road, bade the man a very courteous good evening, adding:
"My friend and I are very weary, monsieur, having come far. Would you have the goodness to suffer us to ride in one of your carts for a little way?"
"Certainly, my child, with pleasure," replied the old fellow kindly. "Get in here. My wife Sophie and a friend of hers are inside, but there is still plenty of room. The carts coming behind are for the most part full of children and the things we are taking to sell at a fair."
So saying, the old man stopped the horse, and the lads clambered into the cart, where they were kindly received by the two women, who were busily employed weaving rush baskets by the light of a little oil lamp.
"Sit down there, my children," said Sophie, pointing to a sort of bench which extended the whole length of the cart, like the seat of an omnibus.