Kinvig had sent a grand landau from Ramsey to fetch Capt’n Davy to Ballaugh; but before the English driver from the Mitre had identified his fare Davy had recognized an old crony, with a high, springless, country cart--Billiam Ballaneddan, who had come to Douglas to dispatch a barrel of salted herrings to his married daughter at Liverpool, and was going back immediately. So Davy tumbled his boxes and bags and other belongings into the landau, piling them mountains high on the cushioned seats, and clambered into the cart himself. Then they set off at a race which should be home first--the cart or the carriage, the luggage or the owner of it; the English driver on his box seat with his tall hat and starchy cravat, or Billiam twidling his rope reins, and Davy on the plank seat beside him, bobbing and bumping, and rattling over the stones like a parched pea on a frying pan. That was a tremendous drive for Davy. He shouted when he recognized anything, and as he recognized everything he shouted throughout the drive. They took the road by old Braddan Church and Union Mills, past St. John’s, under the Tynwald Hill, and down Creg Willie’s Hill. As he approached Kirk Michael his excitement was intense. He was nearing home and he began to know the people. “Lord save us, there’s Tommy Bill-beg--how do, Tommy? And there’s ould Betty! My gough, she’s in yet--how do, mawther? There’s little Juan Caine growed up to a man! How do, Johnny, and how’s the girls and how’s the ould man, and how’s yourself? Goodness me, here’s Liza Corlett, and a baby at her----! I knew her when she was no more than a babby herself.” This last remark to the English driver who was coming up sedately with his landau at the tail of the springless cart. “Drive on, Billiam! Come up, ould girl--just a taste of the whip, Billiam! Do her no harm at all. Bishop’s Court! Deary me, the ould house is in the same place still.” At length the square tower of Ballaugh Church was seen above the trees with the last rays of the setting sun on its topmost story, and then Davy’s eagerness swept down all his patience. He jumped up in the cart at the peril of being flung out, took off his billycock, whirled it round his head, bellowed “Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” After that he would have leaped alongside to the ground and run. “Hould hard!” he cried, “I’ll bate the best mare that’s going.” But Billiam pinned him down to the seat with one hand while he whipped up the horse to a gallop with the other. They arrived at Ballavolly an hour and a half before they were expected. Mistress Kinvig was washing dishes in a tub on the kitchen table. Kinvig himself was sitting lame with rheumatism in the “elber chair” by the ingle. They wiped down a chair for Davy this time. “And Nelly,” said Davy. “Where’s Nelly?” “She’s coming, Capt’n,” said Kinvig. “Nelly!” he called up the kitchen stairs, with a knowing wink at Davy, “Here’s a gentleman asking after you.”