Mr. Hagood had been anticipating this direction, but he answered with a guileless air, “Must you have it to-day? Joe Hatch is a hurryin’ about his wagon.” “Yes, I can’t bake again till I have some more flour; and I guess Joe Hatch can wait.” “You couldn’t go?” “Me? The idea; no, my time’s worth too much to spend a good share of the day going to mill. There was a payment due yesterday on that money I lent Dawson, and if he doesn’t come this morning I shall go around and see him.” Mr. Hagood paused in the door with a reflective manner, “I don’t know, Almira, but ’twould be a good idea to take Posey along and show her the way; old Jim’s that gentle she could drive him well enough, an’ ’twould be dreadful handy sometimes if I could send her to mill when I’m pushed with work. She’s quick to learn anything.” “Quick enough when she wants to be. But why don’t you send her to-day? You can tell her the way; she could hardly miss it.” “Y-e-s, but it’s kind of ticklish gettin’ down the hill there at the mill, I’d want to show her about that myself. But it’s just as you say.” Mrs. Hagood hesitated, but the thought that if Posey could take his place in going to mill Mr. Hagood could be at work decided the matter. “Well, take her then,” she said; “she’s in the garden picking peas; call her in and tell her to get ready.” Just before he was ready to start, Mr. Hagood came in, “There’s never no knowin’ how many will be ahead of me, or how long I’ll have to wait my turn; the last time I got pretty nigh famished, so I wish you’d put up a bite o’ lunch in case I have to wait again, as I’m likely to.” Then with the bag of wheat in the back of the stout buggy, the basket of lunch under the seat, and Rover, the old dog, capering around them, they set off, between meadows where the sun of the July morning had not yet dried the dewy freshness from the grass, and cornfields, the ribbon leaves of whose green rows waved and rustled in the light breeze. When they were well outside the village Rover came to the side of the buggy and looked up with expectant eyes. “Almiry says there ain’t no sense in lettin’ a dog ride,” Mr. Hagood remarked apologetically, “an’ I s’pose she’s right. But Rover does enjoy it so much that when I’m alone I generally let him. Come up, old fellow! There,” as the dog bounded into the buggy, “sit up now like a gentleman.” And Rover lifting his head, lolled out his tongue, and looked first at one and then the other with an air of deep content. It was a five-mile drive, but it seemed short to Posey, though easy-going Jim took his own gait, and once when Mr. Hagood saw on a converging road another wagon piled with bags he held his own horse back until he saw they had the right of way, which in this case assured him a wait of two or three hours at least.