Ah! the fixed and immovable determination of fifteen,--does later life bring anything like it?
But now the wagon stopped, and Hilda must open her eyes, whether she would or no.

In the porch, under the blossoming clematis, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in rough homespun, who held out his great brown hand and said in a gruff, hearty voice,-- "Here ye be, eh?
Thought ye was never comin'.

And this is little miss, is it?
Howdy, missy?
Glad to see ye! Let me jump ye out over the wheel!" But Hilda declined to be "jumped out;" and barely touching the proffered hand, sprang lightly to the ground.
"Now, Marm Lucy," said Farmer Hartley, "let's see you give a jump like that.

'Tain't so long, seems to me, sence ye used to be as spry as a hoppergrass." Dame Hartley laughed, and climbed leisurely down from the cart.

"Never mind, Jacob!" she said; "I'm spry enough yet to take care of you, if I can't jump as well as I used." "This missy's trunk ?" continued the farmer.