"Hannah Sullivan has said that of Mr. Mallow for twenty-five years, mother says!" Lina, the eldest and quietest of the Chanters, spoke reprovingly, "and--and I wouldn't, Zephine, if I were you!" "I know you wouldn't, Sobersides dear; but I would, you see! Where's Nelly? Nell, mind you notice every stitch she has on. _Disgusting_ of Sarepta to ask you instead of me--but perfectly right, you darling thing! Come on, girls! The boys have gone. Weren't they _too_ craven! when, of course, they were dying to!" Speeding along the level, jogging up the hill, John Tucker kept his eyes fixed steadily between Pilot's sharp-pricked ears, and kept up a steady stream of cheerful talk which enabled Kitty to cry quietly into her muff and no harm done. Yes, they was all well, he guessed. Mary had had one of them spells last summer, but she was rugged now, and the children similar. Sarepty was in her usual health, fur as he knew: he never knew anything to ail Sarepty. He didn't know but 'twas because she was so poor of flesh: nothin' for sickness to take holt of, or so it appeared. Bones wasn't liable to ail any, he guessed. What say? "John Tucker, how you talk!" Kitty was actually laughing, a quavering little laugh, but still--"As if bones didn't ache when people have rheumatism! Dear me! how is old Mrs. Tosh, John?" "I couldn't say, Miss Kitty; that is, not precisely. She ain't livin', Mis' Tosh ain't--at the present time!" John added gravely, with an air of guarding his words carefully. "She passed away--yes'm! 'Twas about the time we lost old Victory." "Is Victory dead? Oh, John! the dear old horse! Why, she was the first horse I ever drove. Don't you remember Father giving me the reins, and dear Mother being so frightened?" "I do, Miss!" John Tucker's face, which had been carefully wooden till now, broke into curiously carved wrinkles of laughter. "I'll remember that, I guess, long as I remember anything. Little tyke you was--excuse me, Miss Kitty!" "I certainly was! go on, John!" "Six years old, warn't you? Or not more'n seven anyhow. 'You may drive round to the stable, Daughterkin!' says Doctor, and puts the reins in your little mites of hands. 'Yes, Doctor,' says you. 'I'll drive round!' and you took them reins, and before any one could so much as wink, you was out of the yard, cuttin' down the ro'd full chisel--gee whiminy! I can see you now. Your Ma hollered right out, and I don't wonder, fraygile as she was. I know it took _my_ breath away. Why, I never see anything go so quick. It appeared like you and Victory had got it fixed up between you, so to speak. Doctor himself was took aback, I could see that, the way he winked his eyes, but he wouldn't let on.