t cousin
Ezra that died used to be doctor here, and he give me his sulky when he
got a new one. It's out in the barn. Go fetch your horse, and harness
him in. I'll be ready time the harnessin's done."

"You?" gasped the teacher. "You don't need to go, Mrs. Beasley. I
wouldn't think of giving you that trouble."

"No trouble at all. I wouldn't trust nobody else with them trunks. And
besides, I always do enjoy ridin'. You could go, too, Miss Dorcas, but
the sulky seat's too narrer for three. You can set in the settin' room
till we get back. 'Twon't take us long. Don't say another word; I'm
A-GOIN'."

CHAPTER XVI

A REMARKABLE DRIVE AND WHAT FOLLOWED

The number of reasons given by Mr. Bangs one after the other, to
prove that it would be quite impossible for him to be Mrs. Beasley's
charioteer was a credit to the resources of his invention. The
blacksmith might be back any minute; it was dinner time, and he was
hungry; Henry, the horse, was tired; it wasn't a nice day for riding,
and he would come over some other time and take the widow out; he--But
Debby had a conclusive answer for each protest.

"You said yourself the blacksmith wouldn't be back for an hour," she
observed. "And you can leave word with the boy what he's to do when he
does come. As for dinner, I'll be real glad to give you and Miss Dorcas
a snack soon's we get back. I don't mind if it ain't a pleasant day; a
little fresh air 'll do me good. I been shut up here house-cleanin' ever
since I got back from out West. Now, hurry right along, and fetch your
horse. I'll unlock the barn."

"But, Mrs. Beasley," put in the schoolmistress, "why couldn't you give
us a note to Mrs. Atwood and let us stop for the diary on our way home?
I could return it to you by mail. Or you might get it yourself some
other day and mail it to me."

"No, no! Never put off till to-morrer what you can do to-day. My husband
was a great hand to put off and put off. For the last eight years of his
life I was at him to buy a new go-to-meetin' suit of clothes. The one
he had was blue to start with, but it faded to a brown, and, toward the
last of it, I declare if it didn't commence to turn green. Nothin' I
could say would make him heave it away even then. Seemed to think more
of it than ever. Said he wanted to hang to it a spell and see what
'twould turn next. But he died and was laid out in that same suit, and
I was so mortified at the funeral I couldn't think of nothin' else. No