that the entire family were away from home, Bobaday felt a shock of
disappointment.

Cousin Padgett did not know the exact date of the removal, and
people wrote few letters in those days. So he could not be blamed for
his absence when they came by. Zene limped up to his seat in front of
the wagon, and they moved forward along the 'pike.

"Good!" breathed aunt Corinne, settling back.

"'Tisn't good a bit!" said Bobaday.

And whom should they meet in a few miles but cousin Padgett himself,
riding horseback and leading a cream-colored horse which he had been
into the country to purchase. This was almost as trying as taking
dinner at his house. He insisted that the party should turn back. His
wife and daughters had only driven into the city that morning. Cousin
Padgett was a charming, hearty man, with a ring of black whiskers
extending under his face from ear to ear, and the more he talked the
less Corinne feared him. When he found that his kinspeople could not
be prevailed upon to return with him, he tied up his horses to the
wagon in the wood-shed where Zene unhitched, and took dinner with
grandma Padgett.

Aunt Corinne sat on a log beside him and ate currant pie. He went
himself to the nearest house and brought water. And when a start was
made, he told the children he still expected a visit from them, and
put as a parting gift a gold dollar as delicate as an old three-cent
piece, into the hand of each.