“Yes,” said Ruth, looking aghast at the trunk which was open as usual with half its contents on the floor. “Yes, Mr. Castleton sent me up to say that the stage starts in ten minutes.”
“Oh dear! then we can’t go in this one,” she replied, quietly. “I can’t get ready in that time. We must take the next one going.”
“But no other goes to-day,” said Ruth, in despair.
“Then we must wait until to-morrow,” replied Mrs. Castleton, calmly. “I would just as leave stay here a day as not.”
But Ruth would not, nor Grace, nor any of them; and as Mrs. Castleton continued, “I’ve been to Trenton before—so I don’t care about staying there more than a day.”
Ruth thought she should have exploded. To be cut short of a day at Trenton, she and Grace, who had talked and dreamed of nothing else all summer. And Mary, too, who wanted to take sketches there—it was more than her patience, or rather impatience could bear; but she saw that the only thing to be done, was to get her ready herself—so she said with the energy of desperation.
“Dress yourself, and I’ll pack your trunk. You have plenty of time.” And so she turned to and rapidly folded dresses, and packed and locked the trunk, and then seized the carpet-bag, and stuffed every thing in it she came across in an incredibly short time; and ere Mrs. Castleton had calmly put her bonnet on, she came panting down stairs, dragging the bag after her, and loaded with shawls and cloaks, heated and out of breath. She was just in time to hear Mr. Castleton call out,
“All ready, ladies?” to which his wife answered in the sweetest tones of bright alacrity,
“Yes, all ready!” to his infinite satisfaction and approving surprise, for he answered,
“Ah, that’s right!” as he handed her in the carriage, and as poor Ruth jumped in after her, she exclaimed,