Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
We're explorers, like Stanley in mid-Africa. That's the beauty of this
excursion."
"I'm glad I didn't bring any party dresses," said dainty Louise, shaking
her blonde head with a doubting expression toward the rock
covered hills.
"Why, you might need them for hay-rides," remarked Patsy, with a laugh;
"that is, if any hay grows in this land of quarries."
The train stopped with a jerk, started with another jerk, and stopped
again with a third that made them catch their breaths and hold fast to
the seats.
"Chazy Junction, seh," said the colored porter, entering in haste to
seize their bags.
They alighted on a small wooden platform and their hand baggage was
deposited beside them. Their trunks were being tumbled off a car
far ahead.
Then the whistle screamed, the train gave a jerk and proceeded on its
way, and Uncle John, his nieces and their maid, found themselves
confronting a solitary man in shirtsleeves, who yawned languidly, thrust
his hands in his pockets and stared at the strangers unmoved.
It was six o'clock. The July sun was set in a clear sky, but the air was
cool and pleasant. Uncle John glanced around with the eye of a practiced
traveler. Back of the station was a huddle of frame buildings set in a
hollow. The station-tender was the only person in sight.
"Isn't there a carriage to meet us?" asked Louise, in a slightly frigid
tone.
"Seems not," replied her uncle. Then he addressed the native. "Can you
tell us, sir, where Millville is?" he asked.
"Sev'n mile up the road."
"Thank you kindly. Is there any carriage to be had?"
The man smiled sardonically.
"Kerridges," he said, "don't grow in these parts. I take it you be the
party fer the Wegg farm."
"You're right," said Mr. Merrick. "I'm glad we are getting acquainted.
Folks all well?"
"Pretty fair."
"Now, sir, we want some breakfast, to begin with, and then some way to
get to my farm."
"Peggy orter 'a' looked after you," remarked the man, eyeing the dainty
gowns of the young ladies reflectively.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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