"Bad again!" groaned Terry; "and I felt so good. You are not a kind man," she added, looking at him with big tears in her blue eyes. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything for me. Only, if you would just tell me where Connolly's farm is perhaps I can get there if the fog would only go. I can walk Jocko there, and Connolly will take care of him." "I declare, but you have the pluck for a brigade of soldiers," said the carter. "But come now, missy, I'm not goin' to lave you in the lurch thataway. And first an' foremost Connolly's farm is away over yonder, two miles from Trimleston House in the opposite direction; you took the wrong road from the first." "Oh!" groaned Terry; "and must I go home straight with Jocko's knees broken, and without the eggs?" "An' thankful you ought to be to get there," said the carter, "you an' the pony, without any bones broken. But how do you think you're goin' to get home itself, now, missy?" "You're the unkindest person I ever knew," said Terry. "I didn't think there was so unkind a man in the world. Everyone was always kind to me before." "It's my notion that they've been too kind to you, little missy. However, not to be the unkindest in the world, I'll make a try to bring you home myself. I'll just tie the pony to the back of the cart an' he'll follow, and you get up here beside myself, and we'll face back to Trimleston." "But you were going the other way. You'll be late for your own business," cried Terry. "Never mind, missy; business'll have to wait. We can't lave a young lady and a pony with cut knees foundherin' on the roadside," said the carter. And so the pony was tied to the cart, and Terry was hoisted to a seat on the turf beside the carter. At any other time she would have asked to be allowed to take the reins and drive the cart, but just now she felt too cold and miserable and crushed, too unhappy about Jocko, and too utterly defeated in the matter of the eggs, to do anything but huddle up in her nook among the turf sods and struggle against a threatened burst of weeping. [Illustration] The carter drove on slowly, in silence, looking back now and again to see that the pony was all right, but taking no further notice of Terry. The fog was beginning to lift a little, so that one could see here and there a bit of the roof of a little house, or a thorn bush. At last the carter said: "Well, missy, what about thim eggs? Were they raly for Gran'ma's breakfast?" "Oh, don't talk about them!" cried Terry. "It's the worst of the whole thing. I thought it wasn't wrong because she misses her eggs so much, and our hens won't lay, and Nurse said they had some at Connolly's farm--and oh dear!" Terry here gave way to her despair, and burst into sobbing and weeping. "Well now, little missy, cheer up! I wouldn't say but what we might find a couple of eggs here in one of the houses as we go along."