“Law, Master Artie—” she was beginning, but Janie, who did not seem at all surprised at the question, for of course she had seen Ned’s attempts to make a horse of himself, answered quietly—
“It didn’t do—not so very well, sir, and it gave me a turn, it did, to see Sammy and Bertie a-tumblin’ about, and all but overturned. No, ’tweren’t no good; so Ned, he’s give it up.”
“What a pity!” said Artie and Mary together, “isn’t our p’ram-bilator nice, Janie?”
“’Tis indeed, the wheels is beautiful and the springs,” said Janie, as she stood watching, while Artie pushed it up and down, to let her see how it went; while even Comfort took her eyes off her book for a minute or two to join in, the admiration. “And Miss Baby do be getting on finely,” the little nurse-sister added.
“You’ve not come our way for a good bit, Miss,” said Comfort to Mary. “It’s a nice road past the cottages and on to the wood—so smooth, I can go on reading all the way. No need to look to one side nor the t’other.”
And then the Perrys moved on, with a curtsey from Janie, which she managed with some difficulty on account of the fat baby, and a kind of nod from Comfort, as she let her eyes drop on to her book again.
That evening at tea, Mary and Artie told Leigh and nurse about meeting the Lavender Cottages children, and how tired poor Janie looked.
“Isn’t it a pity Ned couldn’t dror the carriage?” said Artie.
“Draw, not dror,” said Leigh. “How vulgar you are, Artie. No, I don’t see that it could do much good to Janie, for somebody’d have to drive, and so she’d still have the baby to carry. The big sister should take turns with her.”
“Yes, indeed,” said nurse. “That’d be much better than nonsense about harnessing boys. It’s a wonder those children weren’t driven into bits, that day you told us of.”