I never cheat, but give good measures.

"Let me see if there is a cart," begged Bobaday, reaching for the
key which his grandmother reluctantly received.

He then went to the front door and groped in the weeds. The hand-cart
was there, and all of Mr. Matthews' statements were found to be
true. He had plenty of provisions, as well as a small stock of dry
goods and patent medicines, snugly packed in the vehicle which he was
in the habit of pushing before him. There were even candles. Grandma
Padgett lighted one, and stuck it in an empty liniment bottle. Then
she dressed the silly pedler's ankle, and put an abundant supper on
the fire to cook in his various kettles; the pedler smiling with pure
joy all the time to find himself the centre of such a family party.

Bobaday and Corinne came up, and stood leaning against the ends of
the mantel. No poached eggs and toast ever looked so nice; no honey
ever had such melting yellow comb; no tea smelled so delicious; no
ginger cakes had such a rich moistness. They sat on the carriage
cushions and ate their supper with Grandma Padgett. It was placed on
the side of an empty box, between them and the pedlerman. He divided
his attention betwixt eating and chanting rhymes, interspersing both
with furtive laughs, into which he tried to draw the children.
Grandma Padgett overawed him; but he evidently felt on a level with
aunt Corinne and her nephew. In his foolish red face there struggled
a recollection of having gone fishing, or played marbles, or hunted
wild flowers with these children or children like them. He nodded and
twinkled his eyes at them, and they laughed at whatever he did. His
ankle was so relieved by a magic liniment, that he felt able to
hobble around the house when Grandma Padgett explored it, repeating