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Updated: May 21, 2025
So Bobaday drew out a bandbox from under the back seat and helped grandma make the change. The seat-curtain dropped over the Leghorn in its bandbox; and this reminded him that there were other things beside millinery stowed away in the carriage. Playthings could be felt by an appreciative hand thrust under the seat; and a pocket in the side curtain was also stuffed.
"If they got tired of that," said Robert, "they'd come to live here." "The old house looks like its name was Susan," wept Corinne. "Are we goin' to stay all night in this Susan house, ma?" Her parent stepped resolutely from the carriage, and Bobaday hastened to let down some bars. He helped his grandmother lead the horses into a weedy enclosure, and there unhitch them from the carriage.
While sward, sky, and trees became violet-tinted to her through her glasses, and she calmly meditated and chewed a bit of calamus or a fennel seed, Bobaday and aunt Corinne huddled at the wagon's mouth, and Zene indulgently harrowed up their souls with what he heard from a gentleman who had been in the Mexican war.
Perhaps, suggested aunt Corinne, Fairy Carrie would watch the 'pike for the Padgett family, but Bobaday ridiculed the idea. When he grew up a man he meant to go to Baltimore but the railroad would be his choice of routes. Both Robert and his aunt were glad the day they stopped for dinner near a toll-house, and the woman came and invited them to dine with her.
"I almost hate to leave it," said aunt Corinne, "because we did have a good time after we were scared so bad." "Seems as if a body always hates to leave a place," remarked Bobaday. "The next people that come along will never know we lived here one night. But we'll always remember it." Grandma Padgett before entering the carriage, was trying to make the pedler take pay for the food her family ate.
"Is that flea-bit-gray, grazin' in the medder there, pretty?" "Well," replied Bobaday, shifting his feet, "that's about as good-looking as one of our old grays." "You don't know a horse," said Zene indulgently. "Ourn's an iron gray. There's a sight of difference in grays." "Was the woman ugly?" "Is a spotted snake ugly?" "Yes," replied Robert decidedly; "or it 'pears so to me."
If the tavern had any proprietor, he combined farming with tavern keeping. His hay and wheat fields came close to the garden, and his corn stood rank on rank up the hills. "They must be all asleep in there," fretted Grandma Padgett. The woman with her arms over the half door had not stirred. "Shall I run in?" said Bobaday. "Yes, and ask if Zene stopped here. I don't see a sign of the wagon."
"We must keep together," said the head of the caravan. "Yes, marm," responded Zene earnestly. "Well, now, you may drive ahead and keep the carriage in sight till it's dinner-time and we come to a good place to halt." Bobaday said he believed he would get in with Zene and try the wagon awhile. Springs and cushions had become tiresome.
Corinne climbed a tall stump as an observatory, and Bobaday went a piece into the bushes, only to find that all that end of the camp was gone. The colony of Virginians was also partly under way. Aunt Corinne felt a certain sadness steal over her. She had brought herself to admit the pig-headed man, with limitations. He might have a pig's head on him, but it wasn't fast.
"I saw you fixin' this little tent, and then I sl-ip-ped up and hooked some of my clothes on, and didn't dast to breathe 'fear Ma Padgett'd hear me. There must be lots of children in the camp." "Yes; I've heard the babies cryin'." "Do you s'pose there's any gipsy folks along?" "Do 'now," whispered Bobaday, his tone inclining to an admission that gipsy folks might be along.
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