"Clive, where did you put the basket of bread and butter and cold chicken?"
"There—in the bottom of the carriage. Be careful, now, my dear, or you will get your feet into it."
"No, I shan't. But hadn't you better put the bandbox with Martha's bonnet inside here?"
"Indeed, mother," interposed Miss Chrissy, "there is no room for it; for Cousin Peggy's bundle is on one side and the keg of crackers on the other; my feet are resting on the caddy of tea, and the loaf of sugar and paper of coffee are in my lap!"
"There! let's get along," said Uncle Clive, impatiently. "I declare, the sun is already half an hour high, and a ride of forty-five or fifty miles before us. We shall not reach Willow Glade before ten o'clock to-night."
"Yes, and about nine o'clock we shall be going down Bloody Run Hill, and I never can go through the piece of woods between that and Gibbet Hill after dark without horror."
"Ever since the peddler was murdered."
"Yes, ever since the peddler was murdered, and before, too."
Uncle Clive now jumped into his seat, and, taking the reins, we set off at a pretty brisk rate.
"Clive, don't that horse look a little vicious? See how he pricks up his ears!"