She sobbed and cried as we walked along, especially after it grew late in the afternoon and Rucker had not overtaken us with the horse and democrat wagon.

She seemed insulted, and broken-hearted; and was angry for the only time I remember.

When we at last heard the wagon clattering along behind us in the woods, we sat down on a big rock by the side of the road, and Rucker meanly pretended not to see us until he had driven on almost out of sight.

My mother would not let me call out to him; and I stood shaking my fist at the wagon as it went on past us, and feeling for the first time that I should like to kill John Rucker.

Finally he stopped and made us follow on until we overtook him, my mother crying and Rucker sneering at both of us.