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Updated: June 10, 2025
He decided to walk with her, being conscious, indeed, that he got comfort from her presence. What could be the cause of her cheerfulness, he wondered, half ironically, and half enviously, as the pony-cart started briskly away, and the dusk swam between their eyes and the tall form of Edward, standing up to drive, with the reins in one hand and the whip in the other.
Helmsley hesitated a moment, standing beside the pony-cart. "May I pay for my ride?" he said. "Pay?" Meg stuck her stout arms akimbo, and glanced him all over. "Well, I never! How much 'ave ye got?" "Two or three shillings," he answered. Meg laughed, showing a very sound row of even white teeth. "All right! You can keep 'em!" she said. "Mebbe you want 'em. I don't!
Then a bright smile passed over her face, and her eyes lighted up almost as eagerly as Huldah's had, a moment before. Miss Carew's pony-cart had come jingling down the lane, and had drawn up before the garden gate. Huldah sprang forward gladly to open the door, but Mrs. Perry was at it first. "I will go," she said, hastily, "I understand Miss Rose wants me."
By the time I had done this, and cooked the dinner, the morning had flown away. After the midday meal I sewed. Sometimes I drove out in the pony-cart. And in the evening I walked across the common to fetch the milk. The babies used to roam where they liked on this common in charge of a bulldog, while I sat and read. I studied cookery-books instead of parts Mrs. Beeton instead of Shakespeare!
Herne.’ So the struggle ended, and we resumed our route, Mr. Petulengro sitting sideways upon his horse as before, and I driving my little pony-cart; and when we had proceeded about three miles, we came to a small public-house, which bore the sign of the Silent Woman, where we stopped to refresh our cattle and ourselves; and as we sat over our bread and ale, it came to pass that Mr.
If the holidays at Christmas had been a desolation to Gabrielle, her parting from Arthur next Easter was clouded by a sense of more positive want. It was the season of lovers, days of bright sunshine, evenings of a surpassing tenderness. She went to the station with him in the pony-cart alone.
Anna was sitting in the Palmers' pony-cart, outside a shop in the town, waiting for Isabel: she blushed brightly when she saw Delia, and looked rather puzzled at her question. "Where?" she said, vaguely. "Oh, I remember. I was to have had tea with grandfather, but aunt made another engagement for me, and I didn't go." Delia's face clouded over with the disapproving expression Anna knew so well.
The morning after the children had been the possessors of boundless wealth, and had been unable to buy anything really useful or enjoyable with it, except two pairs of cotton gloves, twelve penny buns, an imitation crocodile-skin purse, and a ride in a pony-cart, they awoke without any of the enthusiastic happiness which they had felt on the previous day when they remembered how they had had the luck to find a Psammead, or Sand-fairy, and to receive its promise to grant them a new wish every day.
Yet if their faces told the story, Rochester was with the woman he loved. He had driven a small pony-cart to the station. There was no room, even, for a groom behind. They sat side by side, jogging on through the green country lanes, until they came to the long hill which led to the higher country.
Aunt Sarah's lips never looked straight and thin when she asked to go there, and Isabel Palmer was sure of a welcome at any time. The pony-cart could nearly always be had if it were wanted in that direction, though it seemed so inconvenient for it to take the road to Dornton. And then, with the Palmers there was no chance of severe looks on the subject of Mr Goodwin.
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