is all your clothes in that satchel?"

It was Dorothy's turn to stare and to laugh.

"Oh! no, indeed! They're in my trunk. Here is my check. Number 70777.
I put that down in my little notebook, though it's easy to remember."

"Humph! I've heard that in the States they call a box a 'trunk,'
same's if it was an elephant. Well, give me the check. I'll just
step-an'-fetch it and we'll be jogging."

Mr. Gilpin took the check and lumbered away, dragging one leg stiffly
as if he could not bend the knee, while Dorothy's spirits rose as she
watched him. After all, this was a real adventure; and when it was
over and she was safe at her fine school, she could write all about it
to the friends at home. Thinking about them, she forgot how long John
Gilpin tarried and roused from her reverie with a start when his
hearty voice, guiding his oxen, came around the corner of the station.

"Here we be, lassie! Ever ride in an ox-cart? Ever see a neater yoke
o' cattle? That's an unco big box for a small maid to own and hefty,
to boot. Step right in, for it's gathering clouds, I see, and we can't
have that tidy dress of yours get spoiled while it's new."

It was easy to "step in" to the low-hung vehicle and Dorothy nestled
against her new friend on his spring-seat forward; all the back part
of the wagon being filled with empty barrels and her own trunk.

It had been some sort of holiday in the city and the streets were gay
with flags and bunting, causing Dorothy to exclaim:

"Why, it's just like Halifax, that time Earl Grey was coming! It's
just as English as that was--even more so, for I don't see Old Glory
anywhere, and there I did."

Old John turned his bare, bald head toward her and demanded:

"What do you know about Halifax? Or the Governor General? I thought
you was United States."

"So I am, so I am! But people may travel once in a while, mayn't they?
I can tell you lots about Halifax, even though I was there but a
little while. That was on a vacation journey and it was delight-ful!"

Then, finding the farmer so interested, Dorothy eagerly recited the
story of her "Travels" and their happy ending at her rightful home at
Deerhurst and in the love of her Great-Aunt Betty.

"Sounds like a story book, now don't it! And to think after all
that the old lady should be willin' to despatch you up here to our
Province, just to get a mite of education. Should ha' thought there'd
be institooshuns of learning nigher hand 'an Oak Know