f-scorn, as this quiet woman by her side did;--accepted,
instead, the passing moment, with keen enjoyment. For the rest,
childishly trusted "the Master."

This very drive, now, for instance,--although she and the cart and
Barney went through the same routine every day, you would have thought
it was a new treat for a special holiday, if you had seen the perfect
abandon with which they all threw themselves into the fun of the thing.
Not only did the very heaps of ruby tomatoes, and corn in delicate
green casings, tremble and shine as though they enjoyed the fresh light
and dew, but the old donkey cocked his ears, and curved his scraggy
neck, and tried to look as like a high-spirited charger as he could.
Then everybody along the road knew Lois, and she knew everybody, and
there was a mutual liking and perpetual joking, not very refined,
perhaps, but hearty and kind. It was a new side of life for Margret.
She had no time for thoughts of self-sacrifice, or chivalry, ancient or
modern, watching it. It was a very busy ride,--something to do at
every farm-house: a basket of eggs to be taken in, or some egg-plants,
maybe, which Lois laid side by side, Margret noticed,--the pearly white
balls close to the heap of royal purple. No matter how small the
basket was that she stopped for, it brought out two or three to put it
in; for Lois and her cart were the event of the day for the lonely
farm-houses. The wife would come out, her face ablaze from the oven,
with an anxious charge about that butter; the old man would hail her
from the barn to know "ef she'd thought toh look in th' mail yes'rday;"
and one or the other was sure to add, "Jes' time for breakfast, Lois."
If she had no baskets to stop for, she had "a bit o' business," which
turned out to be a paper she had brought for the grandfather, or some
fresh mint for the baby, or "jes' to inquire fur th' fam'ly."

As to the amount that cart carried, it was a perpetual mystery to Lois.
Every day since she and the cart went into partnership, she had gone
into town with a dead certainty in the minds of lookers-on that it
would break down in five minutes, and a triumphant faith in hers in its
unlimited endurance. "This cart 'll be right side up fur years to
come," she would assert, shaking her head. "It 's got no more notion
o' givin' up than me nor Barney,--not a bit." Margret had her
doubts,--and so would you, if you had heard how it creaked under the
load,--how they piled in