Mrs. Welch thanked him, but thought she would prefer to go on, if she could get a conveyance, even if she could go that night only as far as Brutusville. “Can’t I get some sort of wagon?” she inquired. The agent gazed at her with a serenity that was in strong contrast with her growing decisiveness. He did not know as she could, the mail-wagon went over in the morning after the early train; people generally went by that. Dill Herrick had a sort of a wagon, and folks sometimes took it if they got there too late for the mail-wagon and were in too big a hurry to wait till next day. But Dill was away that day. The wagon was there, but Dill had gone away on his horse and would not be back till next day. All this was told in the most matter-of-fact way, as if it was quite as much a thing of course as any other order of nature. Mrs. Welch was on her metal. She would for once give this sleepy rustic an illustration of energy; she would open his eyes. “Well, is that the _only_ horse anywhere about here?” Her tone was energetic, perhaps even exasperated. The agent was unmoved. “No’m; Al Turley’s got a _sort_ of a horse, but he don’t work very well. And Al ain’t got any wagon.” This was too much for Mrs. Welch. “Don’t you think we might get a horse of one man and the wagon and harness of the other, and put them together?” she laughed. The agent was not so sure. Al might be going to use his horse, and he “didn’t work so well, anyhow.” “But he does work?” Mrs. Welch persisted. “Oh, yes’m—_some_. Al ploughs with him.” “Well, now, let’s see what a little enterprise will do. I’ll pay well for both horse and wagon.” The agent went off, and after a time came back. Al would see what he could do. But again he renewed his invitation to her to wait until to-morrow. He was almost urgent; he painted the difficulties of the journey in the gloomiest colors. Mrs. Welch now, however, had set her mind on carrying out her plans. It had become a matter of principle with her. She had come down here to show what energy would accomplish, and she might as well begin now. While she waited, she passed her time watching the negroes who were congregated about a small building which seemed to be part store, part bar-room, though from her observation the latter was its principal office. They were a loud and slovenly set, but appeared to be good-humored, and rather like children engaged in rough horse-play; and when their voices sounded most like quarrelling they would suddenly break out in loud guffaws of laughter. They were so boisterous at times that Mrs. Welch was glad when the station-agent returned and asked if she wouldn’t go over and sit in his house till Al came. She would have done so, but, as he evidently intended to remain in the office, she thought it would be a good opportunity to learn something about the negroes, and perhaps also to teach him a little on her part.