"You're Mis' Hammon's nieces? Do tell! Maw'll be pleased to see ye--an' so'll Sairy." He shook hands solemnly with Lyddy and then with 'Phemie, who flashed him but a single glance from her laughing eyes. The "Italian sunset effect," as 'Phemie dubbed Lucas's blushes, began to fade out of his countenance. "Can you take us home with you?" asked Lyddy, impatient to settle the matter. "I surely can," exclaimed Lucas. "You hop right in." "No. We want to know what you will charge first--for us and the things at the depôt?" "Not a big load; air they?" queried Lucas, doubtfully. "You know the hill's some steep." Lyddy enumerated the packages, Lucas checking them off with nods. "I see," he said. "We kin take 'em all. You hop in----" But 'Phemie was pulling the skirt of her sister's jacket and Lyddy said: "No. We have some errands to do. We'll meet you up the street. That is your way home?" and she indicated the far end of Market Street. "Ya-as." "And what will you charge us?" "Not more'n a dollar, Miss," he said, grinning. "I wouldn't ax ye nothin'; but this is dad's team and when I git a job like this he allus expects his halvings." "All right, Mr. Pritchett. We'll pay you a dollar," agreed Lyddy, in her sedate way. "And we'll meet you up the street." Lucas unhitched the ponies and stepped into the wagon. When he turned them and gave them their heads the ragged little beasts showed that they were a good deal like the proverbial singed cat--far better than they looked. "I thought you didn't care what people thought of you here?" observed Lyddy to her sister, as the wagon went rattling down the street. "Yet it seems you don't wish to ride through Bridleburg in Mr. Pritchett's wagon." "My goodness!" gasped 'Phemie, breathless from giggling. "I don't mind the wagon. But _he's_ a freak, Lyd!" "Sh!" "Did you ever see such a face? And those freckles!" went on the girl, heedless of her sister's admonishing voice. "Somebody may hear you," urged Lyddy. "What if?" "And repeat what you say to him." "And _that_ should worry me!" returned 'Phemie, gaily. "Oh, dear, Lyd! don't be a grump. This is all a great, big joke--the people and all. And Lucas is certainly the capsheaf. Did you ever in your life before even imagine such a freak?" But Lyddy would not join in her hilarity. "These country people may seem peculiar to us, who come fresh from the city," she said, with some gravity. "But I wonder if we don't appear quite as 'queer' and 'green' to them as they do to us?" "We couldn't," gasped 'Phemie. "Hurry on, Lyd. Don't let him overtake us before we get to the edge of town." They passed the courthouse and waited for Lucas and the farm wagon on the outskirts of the village--where the more detached houses gave place to open fields. No plow had been put into these lower fields as yet; still, the coming spring had breathed upon the landscape and already the banks by the wayside were turning green.