time.

"Papa would be so lonesome without us children," said Edith, "he needs
us all for company."

He was to have still more company. Mr. and Mrs. Hale were coming
to-morrow to join the party, bringing their little daughter Barbara,
Lucy's dearest friend. They could not come to-day; there would have been
hardly room for them in the tallyho. With all "the bonnie Dunlees,"--as
Uncle James called the children,--and all the boxes, baskets, and
bundles, the carriage was about as full as it could hold.

It was seldom that the driver used this tallyho. He was quite choice of
it, and generally drove an old stage, unless, as happened just now, he
was taking a large party. It was a very gay tallyho, as yellow as the
famous pumpkin coach of Cinderella, only that the spokes of the wheels
were striped off with scarlet. There were four white horses, and every
horse sported two tiny American flags, one in each ear.

"All aboard!" called out the driver, a brown-faced, broad-shouldered
man, with a twinkle in his eye.

"All aboard!" responded Mr. Sanford, echoed by Jimmy-boy.

Whereupon crack went the driver's long whip, round went the red and
yellow wheels, and off sped the white horses as freely as if they were
thinking of Lucy's gold mine and longing to show it to her, and didn't
care how many miles they had to travel to reach it. But this was all
Lucy's fancy. They were thinking of oats, not gold mines. These bright
horses knew they were not going very far up the mountain. They would