“Now, then, how had we best divide?” inquired Jim. “Suppose you sit next me, Maggie, and Rosie t’ other side of you? And if you’ll get up behind wi’ the little chap, Mr. Reed, you’ll just about balance us.” John Reed stared a little, winked solemnly at his wife, and finally agreed; and the girls came tripping down the path, Maggie blushing as she clambered into the cart, while Rosie, with many giggles, ascended on the other side. Then little John waved his hand from his place beside his father, big John shouted “Right!” in a stentorian voice, Jim Fry cracked the whip, and they were off. Oh, what a merry drive was that! The old horse hammering along briskly, up the hills as well as down, and covering the ground at a prodigious rate, constantly overtaking other parties of pleasure-seekers who were proceeding more soberly, some on waggons, some on foot, some in little donkey carts. Now the pretty village of Stourpaine was left behind; a few old folks came to their doors to look after the dashing equipage, and some children ran for a little way beside the horse; now they turned off by Steepleton, and for a while enjoyed the shade of the plantation farther on; and at last they drew near the scene of the Fair itself, being forced to proceed more slowly, for the road was well-nigh blocked with vehicles. A mingled and extraordinary din greeted their ears as they approached. The shrieking music of the merry-go-rounds mingling with the shouting and laughter of many voices, the banging of the shooting-galleries, the hoarse cries intermingled with trumpet-blasts from proprietors of the different shows. Johnny was at first disposed to be alarmed, and clutched his father’s hand somewhat tightly, but when the latter cheerily remarked that it was “rare sport” the little fellow strove to put away his fears, and to think it rare sport too.