'"
My informant's delight at this reminiscence was huge. It yielded to a
more subdued sense of the ludicrous when I asked him if there was any
public conveyance to Wallencamp. He made a polite effort to restrain his
mirth, but the muscles of his face twitched violently.
"Waal, no, miss," said he; "we don't run no reg'lar express up to
Wallencamp; might be a very healthy oc'pation, but not as lukertive as
some, I reckon--not as lukertive as pickin' 'tater-bugs: that's what they
do, mostly, down thar'. Fact is, miss," he concluded, with considerable
gravity; "we don't vary often go down to Wallencamp unless we're obliged
to."
On my proposing to make it lucrative, he immediately called, in a loud
voice, to one of the playful occupants of the _depot_:
"Hi, thar!' 'Rasmus! 'Rasmus! Here's a lady wants to be conveyed down to
Wallencamp; you run home and tackle, now! You be lively, now!"
'Rasmus was lively. In a very few moments something of an unusual and
ghostly appearance--so much only I could discover of what afterwards
became a very familiar sort of vehicle--was waiting for me alongside the
platform. The only means of getting into it was through an opening
directly in front.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35