"Oh, pride, pride!" I thought, amused, and watched the two carts, the second of which was with difficulty passing the farmer's, on the opposite side of the narrow road.

At last it succeeded in getting in advance, to the young woman's evident annoyance, until the driver, turning, lifted his hat to her with such a merry, frank, pleasant smile.
Surely, I knew that smile, and the well-set head with its light curly hair.

Also, alas! I knew the cart with relics of departed sheep dangling out behind.

It was our cart of skins, and John Halifax was driving it.
"John! John!" I called out, but he did not hear, for his horse had taken fright at the red cloak, and required a steady hand.

Very steady the boy's hand was, so that the farmer clapped his two great fists, and shouted "Bray-vo!" But John--my John Halifax--he sat in his cart, and drove.