He broke out of his stable and careened wildly around a pasture,
refusing to be hitched, and expressing his contempt for the cart by
kicking up at it.
"I guess your sprain wasn't as bad as you let on," observed Grandma
Padgett.
The observation, or a twinge, reminded Mr. Matthews to double
himself down and groan again.
With painful limps, and Robert Day's assistance, he got the cart
before the fireplace. It looked like a narrow, high green box on
wheels. The pedler blocked the wheels behind, and propped the handle
level. Then he crept with great contentment to the top, and stretched
himself to sleep.
"He's a kind of a fowl of the air," said Grandma Padgett.
"Oh, but I hope he's going our road!" said Bobaday, as they re-ascended
the stairs. "He's more fun than a drove of turkeys!"
"And I'm not a bit afraid of him," said aunt Corinne. "He ain't like
the old man with a bag on his back."
But J. D. Matthews was going in the opposite direction.
Before Grandma Padgett had completed her brief toilet next morning,
and while the daylight was yet uncertain, the Dutch landlord knocked
at the outer door for his fee. He seemed not at all surprised at
finding the pedler lodging there, but told him to stop at the tavern
and trade with the vrow.
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