The wheels came close, and directly a cart stopped at the gate.
It was one of those little wagons that hucksters drive; only this
seemed to be a home-made affair, patched up with wicker-work and
bits of board. It was piled up with baskets of vegetables, eggs,
and chickens, and on a broken bench in the middle sat the driver,
a woman. You could not help laughing, when you looked at the
whole turn-out, it had such a make-shift look altogether. The
reins were twisted rope, the wheels uneven. It went jolting
along in such a careless, jolly way, as if it would not care in
the least, should it go to pieces any minute just there in the
road. The donkey that drew it was bony and blind of one eye; but
he winked the other knowingly at you, to ask if you saw the joke
of the thing. Even the voice of the owner of the establishment,
chirruping some idle song, as I told you, was one of the
cheeriest sounds you ever heard. Joel, up at the barn, forgot
his dignity to salute it with a prolonged "Hillo!" and presently
appeared at the gate.

"I'm late, Joel," said the weak voice. It sounded like a
child's, near at hand.

"We can trade in the dark, Lois, both bein' honest," he
responded, graciously, hoisting a basket of tomatoes into the
cart, and taking out a jug of vinegar.

"Is that Lois?" said Mrs. Howth, coming to the gate. "Sit still,
child. Don't get down."

But the child, as she called her, had scrambled off the cart, and
stood beside her, leaning on the wheel, for she was helplessly