"'Tain't fair, neither," continued Mr. Van Brunt, lashing his great whip from side to side without touching anything. "I have seen critters that would take any quantity of whipping to make them go, but them 'ere ain't of that kind; they'll work as long as they can stand, poor fellows!" There was a little silence, during which Ellen eyed her rough charioteer, not knowing exactly what to make of him. "I guess this is the first time you ever rid in an ox-cart, ain't it?" "Yes," said Ellen; "I never saw one before." "Ha'n't you never seen an ox-cart! Well, how do you like it?" "I like it very much indeed. Have we much further to go before we get to Aunt Fortune's house?" "'Aunt Fortune's house!' a pretty good bit yet. You see that mountain over there?" pointing with his whip to a hill directly west of them, and about a mile distant. "Yes," said Ellen. "That's the Nose. Then you see that other?" pointing to one that lay some two miles further south; "Miss Fortune's house is just this side of that; it's all of two miles from here." And urged by this recollection, he again scolded and cheered the patient oxen, who for the most part kept on their steady way without any reminder. But perhaps it was for Ellen's sake that he scarcely touched them with the whip. "That don't hurt them, not a bit," he remarked to Ellen, "it only lets them know that I'm here, and they must mind their business. So you're Miss Fortune's niece, eh?" "Yes," said Ellen. "Well," said Mr. Van Brunt, with a desperate attempt at being complimentary, "I shouldn't care if you was mine too." Ellen was somewhat astounded, and so utterly unable to echo the wish, that she said nothing. She did not know it, but Mr. Van Brunt had made, for him, most extraordinary efforts at sociability. Having quite exhausted himself, he now mounted into the cart and sat silent, only now and then uttering energetic "Gee's!" and "Haw's!" which greatly excited Ellen's wonderment. She discovered they were meant for the ears of the oxen, but more than that she could not make out.