“I couldn’t think whatever it was,” continued the man. “Me an’ Jinny was a-joggin’ along so quiet as anything, wi’ our load, when I see’d summat a-lyin’ aside o’ the road. First I thought ’twas a bundle, then I see’d ’twas a ’ooman, an’ then I turned ye over an’ says I: ‘’Tis Mrs Sweetapple.’ You’ve a-had a bit of a tumble, haven’t ye? Ye did seem stunned-like when I did pick ye up.” Lizzie, looking at him vaguely, supposed she must have catched her foot in something. “Whatever be you a-doin’ out-o’-door at this time o’ marnin’?” Lizzie collected her scattered thoughts, and resolved to make the most of this unexpected opportunity. This was Jim Frizzle, the corn-merchant’s man, who had so often driven past her house, with corn for the pheasantry and forage for the keeper’s pony, and who had even now and then halted at her own door, to deposit a bundle or two of straw for her private use. “Be you—be you goin’ up—along our way?” “’Ees, I be a-takin’ a truss or two o’ hay to Keeper Foster’s, an’ a sack o’ Injun carn. There’s lots o’ room in my cart; would ye like a lift?” “Thank ye kindly, Mr Frizzle, I would indeed. It be a good thought; I be jist about tired.” “Well, you’m afoot early. What brings ye out at this time o’ marnin’?” Lizzie considered. “Well, ’tis nice an’ cool,” she said falteringly. She was learning to be cunning. People looked so strange and spoke so sharp when she told her secrets that she was now resolved to keep them to herself. If she were to let on to Jim Frizzle about Bartlett he might, as like as not, go and send Phoebe after her. Jim let down the tail-board of the cart, and lifted her in. “Now you’m all right,” he said, as she sank down between the trusses of hay. “You’ll be so snug as anything there. You’m a wonderful active body for your years, I’ll say that. I heerd ye’d shifted,” he continued, after a pause, “but I s’pose that bain’t true.” Lizzie considered again. “I’ve been a-biding wi’ my darter for a while,” she returned presently, “jist for a while—I’m goin’ back now.” Jim jerked the reins, and lit his pipe, and they proceeded on their way in silence, Lizzie dozing now and then, and waking with a start. Their journey took a considerable time, for Frizzle could not avail himself of the short cut across the field and was obliged to proceed by road, approaching the wood at length by a narrow green lane. Lizzie opened her eyes wide when they turned into this lane, and raised herself a little, gazing eagerly towards the longed-for goal. The sun was up now, and all the fresh and dewy April world rejoicing. The grey-green fringes of the larches swung in the breeze, busy birds fluttered from bough to bough, sending forth ecstatic little notes; a rabbit scudded across the path just as the cart entered the wood; Lizzie clapped her hands and laughed. Jim turned round on his seat, and gazed at her in surprise. “What be that for?” he asked.