As the stage pulled into Old Chester, Mr. Pryor roused himself. "Well,
my boy, here we are," he said.
The child quivered and his hands tightened on his bundle, but he said
nothing. When they drew up at the tavern, there was Danny and Goliath
and Dr. Lavendar.
"Mary gave me some gingerbread for him," Dr. Lavendar was saying to
Van Horn. "I've got it tied up in my handkerchief. Why," he
interrupted himself, screwing up his eyes and peering into the dusk of
the old coach--"why, I believe here's Mrs. Richie's brother too!"
As the horses came to a standstill, Dr. Lavendar was in quite a
flutter of eagerness. But when the very little boy clambered out, the
old minister only shook hands with him, man fashion, with no
particular display of interest.
"I'm glad to see you, David. I am Dr. Lavendar." Then he turned to say
"How do you do?" to Mr. Pryor. "Why, look here," he added in a
cheerful after-thought, "I'm going up your way; get out and come along
in my buggy. Hey! Danny! Stop your snarling. The scoundrel's temper is
getting bad in his old age. Those snails Jonas drives can't keep up
with my trotter."
"But you have one passenger already," Mr. Pryor protested. "I'll just
go on up in the stage, thank you."
"Oh," Dr. Lavendar said, "David's bundle is the biggest part of him,
isn't it, David? We'll leave it with Van Horn and get it as we come
back. Come along, Mr. Pryor. There, David, tuck yourself down in
front; Danny can tag behind." There was a moment's hesitation, and
then Mr. Pryor did as he was bid. Dr. Lavendar climbed in himself and
off they jogged, while Jonas remarked to Van Horn that the old
gentleman wasn't just the one to talk about snails, as he looked at
it. But Mr. Pryor, watching the April sunshine chased over the hills
by warm cloud shadows and bursting into joy again on the low meadows,
reflected that he had done well for himself in exchanging the dark
cavern of the stage for Dr. Lavendar's easy old buggy and the open
air. They stopped a minute on the bridge to look at the creek swollen
by spring rains; it was tugging and tearing at the branches that
dipped into it, and heaping up rocking lines of yellow froth along the
banks.
"In summer that's a fine place to wade," Dr. Lavendar observed. David
glanced up at him and then down at the water in silence.