“Now, don’t be in such a hurry,” said Miss Port, advancing to the side of the wagon.  “I want very much to go to Broadstone.  I’ve got some business with that Mrs. Blynn that I ought to have attended to long ago.  Now, why can’t I ride out with you to-morrow?  That’s a pretty broad seat you’ve got.”

The butcher looked at her in dismay.  “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Miss Port,” he said.  “I always have a heavy load, and I can’t take passengers, too.”

“Now, what’s the sense of your talkin’ like that?” said Miss Port.  “You’ve got a great big horse, and plenty of room, and would you have me go hire a carriage and a driver to go out there when you can take me just as well as not?”

The butcher thought he would be very willing.  He did not care for her society, and, moreover, he knew that both at Broadstone and in the town he would be ridiculed when it should be known that he had been taking Maria Port to drive.

“Oh, I couldn’t do it,” he replied.  “Of course, I’m willing to oblige—­”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself any more, Mr. Morris,” interrupted Miss Port.  “I’m not askin’ you to take me now, and I won’t keep you from your dinner.”

The next morning as Mr. Morris, the butcher, was driving past the Port house at rather a rapid rate for a man with a heavy wagon, Miss Maria appeared at her door with her bonnet on.  She ran out into the middle of the street, and so stationed herself that Mr. Morris was obliged to stop.  Then, without speaking, she clambered up to the seat beside him.

“Now, you see,” said she, settling herself on the leather cushion, “I’ve kept to my part of the bargain, and I don’t believe your horse will think this wagon is a bit heavier than it was before I got in.  What’s the name of the new people that’s comin’ to Broadstone?”

CHAPTER IX

Miss Port takes a Drive with the Butcher.

As the butcher and Miss Port drove out of town the latter did not talk quite so much as was her wont.  She seemed to have something on her mind, and presently she proposed to Mr. Morris that he should take the shunpike for a change.

“That would be a mile and a half out of my way!” he exclaimed.  “I can’t do it.”

“I should think you’d get awfully tired of this same old road,” said she.

“The easiest road is the one I like every time,” said Mr. Morris, who was also not inclined to talk.

Miss Port did not care to pass the toll-gate that day; she was afraid she might see the captain, and that in some way or other he would interfere with her trip, but fortune favored her, as it nearly always did.  Old Jane came to the gate, and as this stolid old woman never asked any questions, Miss Port contented herself with bidding her good morning, and sitting silent during the process of making change.

This self-restraint very much surprised old Jane, who straightway informed the captain that Miss Port was riding with the butcher to Broadstone—­she knew it was Broadstone, for he had no other customers that way—­and she guessed something must be the matter with her, for she kept her mouth shut, and didn’t say nothing to nobody.