Natalie: A Garden Scout. Roy Lillian Elizabeth

      “Maybe that is the cab Mr. Marvin ordered to meet us. He said we must not be discouraged if it turned out to be a ‘one-horse chaise’ instead of a taxi,” remarked Mrs. James, highly amused at the experience.

      Natalie made a vicious slap at a green bottle-fly that had annoyed her ever since she alighted from the train. Now she laughed and said: “Not a one-horse chaise, Jimmy, but ‘one horse-fly’ is here to meet us.”

      It was such an opportune play on words that they both laughed merrily. Rachel was now found to be arguing with a man seated in an antique vehicle. He seemed to enjoy the conversation immensely, for he was comfortably stretched out with his feet up over the dashboard and his arms resting along the top of the back of his seat.

      “Let’s go over and add our persuasions to Rachel’s,” said Natalie, picking up her luggage and starting away.

      When they drew near enough to hear the conversation between Rachel and the man, the former was saying: “Yuh don’t know what I kin do to yoh! Do yuh want to see my pow’ful arm?”

      The driver sat up at that and looked at the doubled up thickness of that member of Rachel’s anatomy. Then he said: “But I always gits that much a head fer such a long trip.”

      “What’s the matter here?” demanded Natalie, coming up to join in the argument.

      “Chile, dis highway robber wants to take fifty cents a haid fer takin’ us acrost to Green Hill Fahm. Why, it ain’t no furder’n f’om heah t’ dere, an’ I tells him it is stealin’. In Noo York sech profiteers gits what’s comin’ t’ ’em.”

      Mrs. James interpolated at this. “Fifty cents each is not too much, Rachel. But he must take the luggage as well.”

      The colored woman retreated at that, and cabby chuckled. “How much baggage?”

      “Three suit-cases and these bags and hat-boxes.”

      “I don’t see no suit-cases,” mumbled he.

      “You would, if you had been at the station where you belong. The station-man took the checks and turned the bags over to us before going away to enjoy himself until the next train comes in,” retorted Natalie, impatiently.

      “All right; I’ll wait fer yuh ’til yuh git back,” agreed the driver, preparing to take things easy again.

      “See here,” said Mrs. James, sternly. “Are you Amity Ketchum?”

      “Yes’um, – at your service.”

      “Then you’re the man our lawyer engaged to meet the train and drive us to Green Hill. Now stop your arguing and get those suit-cases, then take us to our home.”

      Mrs. James’ erstwhile good-nature turned like the proverbial worm and she became very imperious. So much so, that lazy Amity chirruped to his horse and went back for the baggage. When he returned and stopped beside the ladies, Mrs. James got in and sat on the back seat that was adjustable to meet demands. Natalie got in and sat beside her, and Rachel laboriously climbed up and dropped into the vacant seat beside the driver. The entire vehicle cracked when her ponderous weight fell upon the old bench, and Amity scowled threateningly at her black, shiny face.

      “I gotta stop at Tompkins’ fer some groceries,” grumbled Amity, with scant ceremony in his tones.

      There was silence for the time it took to reach the “Emporium” at the Corners, but when the proprietor hurried out to welcome the city people, the latter smiled and felt better for his friendliness. Amity had gone inside to get his order filled, and then came out with arms laden with packages.

      Mrs. Tompkins followed her customer out to the steps, and was introduced by her husband to the three strangers. She was very pleasant and told Mrs. James to call upon her for anything she needed or wanted done. After thanking the gracious woman, Mrs. James was about to ask her advice on an important matter, but the hackman gave his horse a cut with the hickory stick, and almost dislocated his passengers’ necks with the lurch given the vehicle.

      The two storekeepers were left standing on the steps watching the buckboard pass out of sight. Mrs. James was angry, but said nothing more. She knew how Rachel’s temper was instantly kindled when anyone dared to offend a member of her revered family, and she understood just what Amity would get if he was not more considerate towards them.

      Having driven little less than a mile along the good highway, Amity suddenly turned off into a rough, badly-kept country road. Mrs. James looked anxiously back, and on each side, then said: “Mr. Ketchum, this is not the road to Green Hill Farm. You should have kept right on that other road.”