"
"Whatever she wants to do," I answered, "is perfectly right.
You may trust to that. I do not understand the matter any more
than you do, but I know she is expected at the Collingwoods', and
wants to go there."
"Very good," said Uncle Beamish. "We'll git away fust and
ask explanations afterwards."
"Dr. Glover," said Miss Burroughs, as we led the horse into the
wagon-house, "don't put the bells on him. Stuff them gently
under the seat--as softly as you can. But how are we all to go
away? I have been looking at that sleigh, and it is intended
only for two."
"It's rather late to think of that, miss," said Uncle Beamish,
"but there's one thing that's certain. We're both very polite to
ladies, but neither of us is willin' to be left behind on this
trip. But it's a good-sized sleigh, and we'll all pack in, well
enough. You and me can sit on the seat, and the doctor can stand
up in front of us and drive. In old times it was considered the
right thing for the driver of the sleigh to stand up and do his
drivin'."
The baggage was carefully stowed away, and, after a look around
the dimly lighted wagon-house, Miss Burroughs and Uncle Beamish
got into the sleigh, and I tucked the big fur robe around them.
"I hate to make a journey before breakfast," said Uncle
Beamish, as I was doing this, "especially on Christmas mornin',
but somehow or other there seems to be somethin' jolly about this
business, and we won't have to wait so long for breakfast,
nuther.
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