Willy noticed that, because he himself had rather regretted not taking
his other shoes. He had only his best ones, and he thought he might
want to go berrying in Exeter and would spoil them tramping through
the bushes and briers, and he did not like to wear shabby shoes.

"Well, I can; but I guess he won't want it," said Grandma.

At last the coach came in sight, and Grandma was all ready excepting
her bonnet and gloves, and Grandpa had only to brush his hat very
carefully and put it on; so they did not miss the train.

Willy's mother hugged him tight and kissed him. There were tears in
her eyes. This was the first time he had ever been away from home
without her. "Be a good boy," said she.

"There isn't any need of tellin' him that," chuckled Grandpa, getting
into the coach. He thought Willy was the most wonderful child in the
world.

It was quite a long ride to Exeter. They did not get there until
tea-time, but that made it seem all the pleasanter. Willy never forgot
how peaceful and beautiful that little, elm-shaded village looked with
the red light of the setting sun over it. There was aunt Annie, too,
in the prettiest blue-sprigged, white cambric, standing in her door
watching for them; and she was so surprised and delighted to see
Willy, and they had tea right away, and there were berries and cream,
and cream-tartar biscuits and frosted cake.

Uncle Frank, Willy thought, was going to be the nicest uncle he had.