Meanwhile he had stopped his horse. He was about to start afresh, when a thought struck him.
“Maybe you're goin' my way,” said he, turning to Paul; “if you are, you're welcome to a ride.”
Paul was very glad to accept the invitation. He clambered into the cart, and took a seat behind the pedler, while Boney, who took his recent disappointment very good-naturedly, jogged on contentedly behind.
“How far are you goin'?” asked Paul's new acquaintance, as he whipped up his horse.
Paul felt a little embarrassed. If he had been acquainted with the names of any of the villages on the route he might easily have answered. As it was, only one name occurred to him.
“I think,” said he, with some hesitation, “that I shall go to New York.”
“New York!” repeated the pedler, with a whistle expressive of his astonishment.
“Well, you've a journey before you. Got any relations there?”
“No uncles, aunts, cousins, nor nothing?”
“Then what makes you go? Haven't run away from your father and mother, hey?” asked the pedler, with a knowing look.
“I have no father nor mother,” said Paul, sadly enough.
“Well, you had somebody to take care of you, I calculate. Where did you live?”
“If I tell you, you won't carry me back?” said Paul, anxiously.
“Not a bit of it. I've got too much business on hand for that.”
Relieved by this assurance, Paul told his story, encouraged thereto by frequent questions from his companion, who seemed to take a lively interest in the adventures of his young companion.
“That's a capital trick you played on old Mudge,” he said with a hearty laugh which almost made the tins rattle. “I don't blame you a bit for running away. I've got a story to tell you about Mrs. Mudge. She's a regular skinflint.”
This was the pedler's promised story about Mrs. Mudge.
“The last time I was round that way, I stopped, thinking maybe they might have some rags to dispose of for tin-ware. The old lady seemed glad to see me, and pretty soon she brought down a lot of white rags. I thought they seemed quite heavy for their bulk,--howsomever, I wasn't looking for any tricks, and I let it go. By-and-by, when I happened to be ransacking one of the bags, I came across half a dozen pounds or more of old iron tied up in a white cloth. That let the cat out of the bag. I knew why they were so heavy, then, I reckon I shan't call on Mrs. Mudge next time I go by.”