She went to the front door to look out for him, but returned without any news. A few minutes passed in silence, for, though full of curiosity, the good landlady dared not ask what she wanted to know, for fear of again exciting the sorrow of her little companion. She contented herself with looking at Ellen, who, on her part, much rested and refreshed, turned from the table, and was again, though somewhat less sadly, gazing into the fire. Presently the great wooden clock struck half-past five, with a whirring, rickety voice, for all the world like a hoarse grasshopper. Ellen at first wondered where it came from, and was looking at the clumsy machine, that reached nearly from the floor of the kitchen to the ceiling, when a door at the other end of the room opened, and "Good day, Mrs. Forbes," in a rough but not unpleasant voice, brought her head quickly round in that direction. There stood a large, strong-built man, with an ox-whip in his hand. He was well made, and rather handsome, but there was something of heaviness in the air of both face and person mixed with his certainly good-humoured expression. His dress was as rough as his voice — a coarse gray frock-coat, green velveteen pantaloons, and a fur cap that had seen its best days some time ago. "Good day, Mrs. Forbes," said this personage; "Sam said you wanted me to stop as I went along." "Ah, how d'ye do, Mr. Van Brunt?" said the landlady, rising — "you've got the ox-cart here with you, han't you?" "Yes — I've got the ox-cart," said the person addressed. "I came in town for a barrel of flour; and then the near ox had lost both his fore-shoes off, and I had to go over there; and Hammersley has kept me a precious long time. What's wanting, Mrs. Forbes? I can't stop." "You've no load in the cart, have you?" said the landlady. "No; I should have had, though, but Miller had no shorts nor fresh flour, nor won't till next week. What's to go down, Mrs. Forbes?" "The nicest load ever you carried, Mr. Van Brunt. Here's a little lady come to stay with Miss Fortune. She's a daughter of Captain Montgomery, Miss Fortune's brother, you know. She came by the stage a little while ago, and the thing is now to get her down to-night. She can go in the cart, can't she?" Mr. Van Brunt looked a little doubtful, and pulling off his cap with one hand, while he scratched his head with the other, he examined Ellen from head to foot, much as if she had been some great bale of goods, and he were considering whether his cart would hold her or not. "Well," said he at length, "I don't know but she can; but there ain't nothing on 'arth for her to sit down upon." "Oh, never mind; I'll fix that," said Mrs. Forbes. "Is there any straw in the bottom of the cart?" "Not a bit." "Well, I'll fix it," said Mrs. Forbes. "You get her trunk into the cart, will you, Mr. Van Brunt? and I'll see to the rest."