I never will any more, and I'm so sorry, I don't know what to do," answered Bab, completely bowed down by this magnanimity.
"Never mind; you just wipe up your face and come along, and we'll tell Ma all about it, and she'll fix us as nice as can be.

I shouldn't wonder if Sanch got home now before we did," said Ben, cheering himself as well as her by the fond hope.
"I don't believe I ever shall.

I'm so tired my legs won't go, and the water in my boots makes them feel dreadfully.

I wish that boy would wheel me a piece.

Don't you s'pose he would?
asked Bab, wearily picking herself up as a tall lad trundling a barrow came out of a yard near by.
"Hullo, Joslyn!" said Ben, recognizing the boy as one of the "hill fellows" who came to town Saturday nights for play or business.
"Hullo, Brown!" responded the other, arresting his squeaking progress with signs of surprise at the moist tableau before him.
"Where goin' ?" asked Ben with masculine brevity.
"Got to carry this home, hang the old thing." "Where to ?" "Batchelor's, down yonder," and the boy pointed to a farm-house at the foot of the next hill.
"Goin' that way, take it right along." "What for ?" questioned the prudent youth, distrusting such unusual neighborliness.
"She's tired, wants a ride; I'll leave it all right, true as I live and breathe," explained Ben, half ashamed yet anxious to get his little responsibility home as soon as possible, for mishaps seemed to thicken.
"Ho, you couldn't cart her all that way! she's most as heavy as a bag of meal," jeered the taller lad, amused at the proposition.
"I'm stronger than most fellers of my size.