"What shall we give him to sleep on?" pondered the grandmother. "I
can't spare things from the children; it won't do to let him sleep on
the floor."

"I have a cart, it has been said,
Which serves me both for cupboard and bed,"

chanted Mr. Matthews.

"Well, that's a good thing," said Grandma Padgett. "If you could
pull a whole furnished house out of that cart 'twouldn't surprise me."

The pedler opened the door and dragged his cart in over the low
sill. They then bolted the door with such rusty fastenings as
remained to it.

As soon as he felt the familiar handle on his palms, J. D. Matthews
forgot that his ankle had been twisted. He was again upon the road,
as free as the small wild creatures that whisked along the fence.
Grandma Padgett's grown-up strength of mind failed to restrain him
from acting the horse. He neighed, and rattled the cart wildly over
the empty room. Now he ran away and pretended to kick everything to
pieces; and now he put himself up at a manger, and ground his feed.
He broke out of his stable and careened wildly around a pasture,
refusing to be hitched, and expressing his contempt for the cart by
kicking up at it.

"I guess your sprain wasn't as bad as you let on," observed Grandma
Padgett.