'You do not see it to advantage,' said Zita regretfully. 'It is not dressed out. The pans and brushes and mats are stowed away, that make it glitter just like a lifeguardsman. The inside is taken out. The curtains are unhung. And then those dratted fowls are a nuisance. They have taken a fancy to the van. If Master Drownlands and I were on better terms, I'd ax him to have the fowls killed, or the shed boarded up, that they might not come in.' 'What? you are not on good terms with old Ki?' 'Only middling. I have had to teach him to keep his distance.' 'Oh! he wanted to come to too close quarters—small blame to him,' said Mark, laughing. 'He and I could not agree about terms—that was it,' said Zita, with an impatient and annoyed toss of her head. 'Let the van come to my place,' said Runham. 'Then I will stow it away out of reach of all fowls.' Zita shook her head. 'I like to look at my van every day.' 'Well, that is no reason against sending it to Crumbland. If you come to look at it twice a day, so much the better pleased I shall be.' 'I cannot send the van anywhere where I am not living, and this is my lodging for the winter,' said Zita. 'And how goes the horse?' asked Mark. 'He don't go at all,' replied the girl. 'He eats and thinks and gets bloated. He hasn't enough to do. I'm afraid he'll be out of health.' 'Let us have him into the shafts and trot him out a bit.' 'What? in the van?' 'Of course, in the van.' Zita flushed with pleasure. 'I shall love it above all things—but trot he won't. He never trotted in his life but once, and that was on the fifth of November. A gipsy had tied a Roman candle to his tail. He trotted then. After every flare and pop he went on at a run, then he stopped and looked behind him for an explanation. Then away went the Roman candle again, and a great globe of fire shot away high over the roof of the van. At that Jewel trembled and trotted on once more. Father was away. I was younger then by some years, and it frightened me. I did not dare to touch the Roman candle. Jewel ran about two miles, and when the firework was exhausted, he stood still, and, with thinking about it, and trying to understand and unable, fell asleep in the middle of the road. Father found us there, and he tried to persuade Jewel to return the two miles, but he was obstinate—tremenjous—and wouldn't move. At last father was forced to tie a Roman candle to his nose, and that drove him backwards the two miles. But I don't think Jewel ever quite got over the surprise of that fifth of November.' When Mark had done laughing at Zita's story,—and Zita laughed as she told it, and laughed when it was over, because Mark's laugh was irresistible,—then the young fellow said, 'It will be fun for me, pleasure to you, it will exercise the horse, and freshen and sweeten the van. We will go a drive, in preparation for the grand tour in the spring. Where is the harness? I'll rig the grey up.' 'You do not know how to set about it,' said Zita.