Aunt Emma looked at her doubtfully, but there was a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Well, take care you don't get sold too," she said; "if you do, I shan't buy you back, I promise you. I've a good mind to walk in myself in the afternoon," she added, turning to her brother. "I haven't seen Norton Market for years, and I've often felt I'd like to. I little thought I should ever be helping to have a stall there. I really think I must go in, William." "You could drive home," said Tom readily. "Bella can manage the pony, and I'll walk." Bella was looking at her father, all her thoughts centred on him. The only shadow on their day, the day when they would reach the height of their ambition, was that he would not be there to see it. She knew that he was feeling it too. It would have been such a pleasure to him, such a grand break in the monotony of his life, if he could have gone too. "Oh, it must be managed somehow; some way must be found," she thought desperately--and then inspiration came to her. "Father, you must come too," she cried, "or--or it won't be a bit right. Aunt Emma, can't we manage like this, just for once? Suppose you drive in with Tom and all the things in the morning,"--and she choked back her disappointment that, after all her dreams and hopes and longings, she would not be there herself to arrange her first market-stall,--"then I will drive father in later in Mrs. Wintle's donkey-cart. Do you think you could bear the drive, father?" she asked anxiously, her eyes alight with excitement. "I believe it would do me good," he answered eagerly. His face had been growing brighter and brighter all the time Bella had been speaking, and his poor tired eyes were as full of a wistful longing, as were Margery's a few moments before. "I've thought many a time how nice a little outing would be, and I do want to see the children make their new venture," he added, turning to his sister. "It's one I've been wanting for them ever since the beginning." So it was all settled, and in her joy and pride at taking her father for his first outing, she quite forgot her desire to arrange their first stall. To Margery there was nothing wanting in her pleasure. To be allowed to go to Norton and sit like a real market-woman behind a real stall with scales and paper bags and measures; to see the people come up and buy, and open their purses and hand money to Tom or Aunt Emma, and then to see Tom or Aunt Emma go to the cash-box and put in the money and take out the change, was all wonderful and lovely enough, but to have her father there too made everything quite perfect; and her only trouble was that so many hours had to be lived through, somehow, before these wonderful things could happen.