The donkey-carriage was a pretty little thing on four wheels, with a seat in front and a seat behind, each capable of holding one small person. Eleanor had almost outgrown the front seat, but she managed to squeeze into it, and I climbed in behind. We had dressed Neddy's head and our own hats liberally with roses, so that our festive appearance drew the notice of the villagers, more than one of whom, from their cottage-doors, asked if we were going to meet "the young gentlemen," and added, "They'll be rare and glad to get home, I reckon!" Impatience had made us early, and we drove some little distance before espying the cab, which toiled uphill at much the same pace as the black snails crawled by the roadside. Eleanor drew up by the ditch, and we stood up and waved our handkerchiefs. In a moment two handkerchiefs were waving from the cab-windows. We shouted, and faint hoorays came back upon the breeze. Neddy pricked his ears, the dogs barked, and only the cabman remained unmoved, though we could see sticks and umbrellas poked at him from within, in the vain effort to induce him to hasten on. At last we met. The boys tumbled out, one on each side, and a good deal of fragmentary luggage tumbled out after them. Clement seemed to be rather older than Eleanor, and Jack, I thought, a little younger than me. "How d'ye do, Margery?" said Jack, shaking me warmly by the hand. "I'm awfully glad to hear the news about you; we shall be all square now, two and two, like a quadrille." "How do you do, Miss Vandaleur?" said Clement. "Look here, Eleanor," Jack broke in again; "I'll drive Margery home in the donkey-carriage, and you can go with Clem in the cab. I wish you'd give me the wreath off your hat, too." Eleanor willingly agreed, the wreath was adjusted on Jack's hat, and we were just taking our places, when he caught sight of the luggage that had fallen out on Clement's side of the cab--some fishing-rods, a squirrel in a fish-basket, and a hat-box. "Oh!" he screamed, "there's my hat-box! Take the reins, Margery!" and he flew over the wheel, and returned, hat-box in hand. "Is it a new hat?" I asked sympathizingly. "A hat!" he scornfully exclaimed. "My hat's loose in the cab somewhere, if it came at all; but all my beetles are in here, pinned to the sides. Would you mind taking it on your knee, to be safe?" And having placed it there, he scrambled once more into the front seat, and we were about to start (the cab was waiting for us, the cabman looking on with a grim smile at Jack, whilst energetic Eleanor rearranged the luggage inside), when there came a second check. "Have you got a pin?" Jack asked me. "I'll see," said I; "what for?" "To touch up Neddy with. We're going home a rattler." But on my earnestly remonstrating against the pin, Jack contented himself with pointing a stick, which he assured me would "hurt much more."