up to the gate,
and Mrs. Goodriche was looking out with her pleasant smiling face.
John, too, had brought the horse to the gate, and everybody who
belonged to the house was soon out upon the grass-plot; the dog was
there, and quite as set up as Henry himself; and Betty came too, though
nobody knew why. Mrs. Fairchild got in first, and then Lucy; and
everybody said good-bye as if those who were going were not to come
back for a month; and the post-boy cracked his whip, and Mr. Fairchild
mounted his horse, and away they went.

Emily and Henry watched them till the turn of the road prevented them
from seeing them any longer; and then Henry said:

"Let us run to the chesnut-trees at the top of the round hill, and then
we shall be able to see the carriage again going up on the other side;
I saw it come down from Mrs. Goodriche's."

"Stay but one moment," said Emily, and she ran upstairs, put on her
bonnet and tippet, and was down again in one minute, with her doll on
her arm and a little book in her hand.

"Come, come," said Henry, and away they ran along a narrow path, among
the shrubs in the garden, out at a little gate, and up the green slope.
They were very soon at the top of the small hill, and under the shade
of the chesnut-trees. They passed through the grove to the side which
was farthest from their house, and then they sat down on the dry and
bare root of one of the trees.

For a minute or more they could not see the carriage, because it was
down in the valley beneath them, and the road there was much shaded by
willows and wych-elms and other trees that love the neighbourhood of
water, for the brook which turned the mill was down there. But when the
carriage began to go up on the other side, they saw it quite plain;
there was the post-boy in his yellow jacket, jogging up and down on his
saddle, and Mr. Fairchild sometimes a little before and sometimes a
little behind the carriage.

Henry was still in very high spirits; he was apt to be set up by any
change, and when he was set up, he was almost sure to get into a
scrape, unless something could be thought of to settle him down
quietly.

Emily had thought of something, and got it ready; but whilst the
carriage was in sight nothing was to be done, for Henry had picked up a
branch which had fallen from one of the trees, and as he sat on the
root, was jogging up and down, waving his branch like a whip, and
imitating those sort of odd noises which drivers make to