Circumstances were to be greatly altered when Emily met these young racers again.
CHAPTER XVI.
STAMPEDE AND AVALANCHE.
Is there in all the world a sight more wholesome and comforting to the tired wayfarer than a loaded hay-cart? When Emily spied one ahead of her she felt a little throb of pleasure in her bosom and at once hastened her step to overtake it. The farmer was asleep on the seat, with a sundown over his face.
"Perhaps I had better wake him," thought Emily. "Won't your horse run away?"
"Run away?" The peaked old face was wide open of a sudden. "Guess not, miss, not with that load on. Dobbin ain't no pony. Step aboard? How far are you baound?"
"I am looking for the Arnold mansion."
"Arnold mansion? This is just the kerridge you want to take. Mrs. Arnold's a putty close neighbor of aours."
Grateful for the offer, Emily climbed into the creaky seat under the fragrant, overhanging load.