Early Saturday morning, before any other steps had brushed the dew from the grassy roadside, Reuben Taylor was on his way from the rocky coast point where he lived to the smooth well-ordered abode of Mr. Simlins. Receiving from that gentleman the key of the old house at Neanticut, and having harnessed the horses to the big wagon under his special directions, Reuben drove down to the village, put horses and wagon in safe keeping, and reported himself at Mrs. Derrick's. All things there being in readiness, that small turn-out was soon on its way; leaving Mr. Linden to look after his own much larger consignment. And despite the presence of Reuben Mrs. Derrick chose to drive; because, as she said, "when she had the reins in her own hands, she knew which way the horse was going."
The road for awhile went on towards Mrs. Seacomb's, but passing the turn into the woods kept on its uneven way to the ferry. The natural hedges—all glittering with dew—shewed little colour but in the leaves. The fair clethra and the sweet clematis had ended their short reign and were gone, and high-coloured sumachs flamed out in insurrection. Now the country became more hilly, and where the eastern portion of Pattaquasset lay close upon the Mong, the road went down by a succession of steep pitches to its shore Then the road ran on through a sort of half drained marsh—varied in its course by holes and logs and a little bridge, and then they were at the ferry.
Now the ferry between Pattaquasset and Neanticut was—and is, as I trust it will always be—propelled by wind power. No plodding horses to distract one's eyes from the surrounding peace,—no puffing steam to break with its discord the sweet rush of the water,—but a large, flat-bottomed boat, a white sail, and a Yankee steersman. The only evil attendant upon these advantages is, that the establishment cannot be upon both sides at once—and that the steersman, like other mortals, must take his dinner. This time it happened to be breakfast; for having been much interrupted and called for at the hour when he should have taken that refreshment, long Tim declared "he would have it now, and no mistake!" The little fact that two ladies were waiting for him on the other side, did not in the least affect his appetite or his deliberation.
"Faith," said her mother when they had waited about a quarter of an hour, "if 'tother wagon should catch up we shouldn't get there first!"
Faith laughed and said, "Well, mother!"
"Well, child," said her mother cheerfully, while Reuben waved fresh signals to the obdurate ferryman, "I'm sure I don't mind, if you don't."
"He's coming out now!" said Reuben,—"or his wife is—and that's just as good."
And so it appeared; for a short vision of a red petticoat and blue jacket on the other bank, was followed by the ferryman himself,—the white sail rose up above the little boat, and she floated smoothly over. Then Mrs. Derrick drove carefully across the boat bridge, and long Tim pushed off into the stream. How pretty it was! the winding river above, with its woody banks, and villages, and spires; and its broader bends below, towards the Sound. They were about midway in the stream when Reuben suddenly cried out—
"Look, Miss Faith!"—
And there came the great wagon, at not the slowest possible rate, over the long marsh road.