Fleda was satisfied to see the buckle made fast, and that Watkins,
roused by her hint or by the cause of it, afterwards took a somewhat
careful look over the whole establishment. In high glee then she climbed
to her seat in the little wagon, and her grandfather coming out coated and
hatted with some difficulty mounted to his place beside her.
"I think Watkins might have taken the trouble to wash the wagon,
without hurting himself," said Fleda; "it is all specked with mud since
last time."
"Ha'n't he washed it!" said the old gentleman in a tone of displeasure.
"Watkins!"--
"Well."--
"Why didn't you wash the wagon as I told you?"
"I did."
"It's all over slosh."
"That's Mr. Didenhover's work--he had it out day 'fore yesterday; and if
you want it cleaned, Mr. Ringgan, you must speak to him about it. Mr.
Didenhover may file his own doings; it's more than I'm a going to."
The old gentleman made no answer, except to acquaint the mare with the
fact of his being in readiness to set out. A shade of annoyance and
displeasure for a moment was upon his face; but the gate opening from the
meadow upon the high road had hardly swung back upon its hinges after
letting them out when he recovered the calm sweetness of demeanour that
was habitual with him, and seemed as well as his little granddaughter to
have given care the go-by for the time.
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