I drove slowly home, and little Pat lay very quiet, looking up
steadily at me with his twinkling blue eyes. For a time,
everything went very well, but happening to look up, I saw in the
distance a carriage approaching. It was an open barouche, and I
knew it belonged to a family of our acquaintance, in the village,
and that it usually contained ladies.
Quick as thought, I rolled up Pat in his shawl and stuffed him
under the seat. Then rearranging the lap-robe over my knees, I
drove on, trembling a little, it is true.
As I supposed, the carriage contained ladies, and I knew them all.
The coachman instinctively drew up, as we approached. We always
stopped and spoke, on such occasions.
They asked me after my wife, apparently surprised to see me alone,
and made a number of pleasant observations, to all of which I
replied with as unconcerned and easy an air as I could assume. The
ladies were in excellent spirits, but in spite of this, there
seemed to be an air of repression about them, which I thought of
when I drove on, but could not account for, for little Pat never
moved or whimpered, during the whole of the interview.
But when I took him again in my lap, and happened to turn, as I
arranged the robe, I saw his bottle sticking up boldly by my side
from between the cushions. Then I did not wonder at the
repression.
When I reached home, I drove directly to the barn. Fortunately,
Jonas was there. When I called him and handed little Pat to him I
never saw a man more utterly amazed.
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