He is due now.

Five more lame, crawling minutes--ten!--no sign of him.

Again I rise, unclose the casement, and push my matronly head a little way out to listen.

Yes! yes! there is the distant but not doubtful sound of a horse's four hoofs smartly trotting and splashing along the muddy road.

Three minutes more, and the sun catches and brightly gleams on one of the quickly-turning wheels of the dog-cart as it rolls toward me, between the wintry trees.
At first I cannot see the occupants; the boughs and twigs interpose to hide them; but presently the dog-cart emerges into the open.