I'm
agoin' ter ride in them 'lectric-cars, an' so be
you. An' I ain't goin' ter no old country fair, neither, an' no more be
you. Look a' here, Abby, the folks are goin' again ter-morrer ter the
fair, ain't they?"
Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to shine.
"Well," resumed Hezekiah, "when they go we'll be settin' in the sun
where they say we'd oughter be. But we ain't agoin' ter stay there,
Abby. We're goin' down the road an' git on them 'lectric-cars, an' when
we git ter the Junction we're agoin' ter take the steam cars fer Boston.
What if 'tis thirty miles! I calc'late we're equal to 'em. We'll have
one good time, an' we won't come home until in the evenin'. We'll see
Faneuil Hall an' Bunker Hill, an' you shall buy a new cap, an' ride in
the subway. If there's a preachin' service we'll go ter that. They have
'em sometimes weekdays, ye know."
"Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn't!" gasped the little old woman.
"Pooh! 'Course we could. Listen!" And Hezekiah proceeded to unfold his
plans more in detail.
It was very early the next morning when the household awoke. By seven
o'clock a two-seated carryall was drawn up to the side-door, and by a
quarter past the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and the
lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on to the high-way.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182