y this time, the baby, being all alive again,
was invested by the united efforts of Mrs. Peerybingle and Miss Slowboy,
with a cream-colored mantle for its body, and a sort of nankeen
raised-pie for its head, and in course of time they all three got down
to the door, where the old horse was waiting to convey them on
their trip.

In reference to Miss Slowboy's ascent into the cart, if I might be
allowed to mention a young lady's legs, on any terms, I would observe of
her that there was a fatality about hers which rendered them singularly
liable to be grazed; and that she never effected the smallest ascent or
descent without recording the circumstance upon them with a notch, as
Robinson Crusoe marked the days upon his wooden calendar. But as this
might be considered ungenteel, I'll think of it--merely observing that
when the three were all safely settled in the cart, and the basket
containing the Veal-and-Ham Pie and other delicacies, which Mrs.
Peerybingle always carried when she visited the blind girl, was stowed
away, they jogged on for some little time in silence.

But not for long, for everybody on the road had something to say to the
occupants of John Peerybingle's cart, and sometimes passengers on foot,
or horseback, plodded on a little way beside the cart, for the express
purpose of having a chat. Then, too, the packages and parcels for the
errand cart were numerous, and there were many stoppages to take them in
and give them out, which was not the least interesting part of
the journey.

Of all the little incidents of the day, Dot was the amused and open-eyed
spectatress from her chair in the cart; making a charming little
portrait as she sat there, looking on. And this delighted John the
Carrier beyond measure.

The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the January weather, and was
raw and cold. But who cared for such trifles! Not Dot, decidedly. Not
Tilly Slowboy, for she deemed sitting in a cart on any terms, to be the
highest point of human joy; the crowning circumstance of earthly hopes.
Not the baby, I'll be sworn; for it's not in baby nature to be warmer or
more sound asleep than that blessed young Peerybingle was all the way.

In one place there was a mound of weeds burning, and they watched the
fire until, in consequence, as she observed, of the smoke "getting up
her nose," Miss Slowboy choked--she could do anything of that sort on
the smallest provocation--and woke the baby, who wouldn't go to
sle