"Sure," said the old man. "Come on, and I'll help you up." He assisted her very painstakingly to the old board that usually served him as a seat, and he clambered to a place beside her. "Come on, William," he called. The painter climbed into the wagon and stood behind his father, putting his hand on the old man's shoulder to preserve his balance. "Which is the near ox?" asked the girl with a serious frown. "Git-ap! Haw! That one there," said the old man. "And this one is the off ox?" "Yep." "Well, suppose you sat here where I do; would this one be the near ox and that one the off ox, then?" "Nope. Be just same." "Then the near ox isn't always the nearest one to a person, at all? That ox there is always the near ox?" "Yep, always. 'Cause when you drive 'em a-foot you always walk on the left side." "Well, I never knew that before." After studying them in silence for a while, she said, "Do you think they are happy?" "I dunno," said the old man. "I never thought." As the wagon creaked on they gravely discussed this problem, contemplating profoundly the backs of the animals. Hawker gazed in silence at the meditating two before him. Under the wagon Stanley, the setter, walked slowly, wagging his tail in placid contentment and ruminating upon his experiences. At last the old man said cheerfully, "Shall I take you around by the inn?" Hawker started and seemed to wince at the question. Perhaps he was about to interrupt, but the girl cried: "Oh, will you? Take us right to the door? Oh, that will be awfully good of you!" "Why," began Hawker, "you don't want--you don't want to ride to the inn on an--on an ox wagon, do you?" "Why, of course I do," she retorted, directing a withering glance at him. "Well----" he protested. "Let 'er be, William," interrupted the old man. "Let 'er do what she wants to. I guess everybody in th' world ain't even got an ox wagon to ride in. Have they?" "No, indeed," she returned, while withering Hawker again. "Gee! Gee! Whoa! Haw! Git-ap! Haw! Whoa! Back!" After these two attacks Hawker became silent. "Gee! Gee! Gee there, blast--s'cuse me. Gee! Whoa! Git-ap!" All the boarders of the inn were upon its porches waiting for the dinner gong. There was a surge toward the railing as a middle-aged woman passed the word along her middle-aged friends that Miss Fanhall, accompanied by Mr. Hawker, had arrived on the ox cart of Mr. Hawker's father. "Whoa! Ha! Git-ap!" said the old man in more subdued tones. "Whoa there, Red! Whoa, now! Wh-o-a!" Hawker helped the girl to alight, and she paused for a moment conversing with the old man about the oxen. Then she ran smiling up the steps to meet the Worcester girls. "Oh, such a lovely time! Those dear old oxen--you should have been with us!" CHAPTER XV. "Oh, Miss Fanhall!" "What is it, Mrs. Truscot?" "That was a great prank of yours last night, my dear. We all enjoyed the joke so much." "Prank?"