Of all these little incidents, Dot was the
amused and open-eyed spectatress from her chair in
the cart; and as she sat there, looking on -- a charm-
ing little portrait framed to admiration by the tilt --
there was no lack of nudgings and glancings and
whisperings and envyings among the younger men.
And this delighted John the Carrier, beyond measure;
for he was proud to have his little wife admired,
knowing that she didn't mind it -- that, if anything,
she rather liked it perhaps.
The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the Jan-
uary weather; and was raw and cold. But who cared
for such trifles? Not Dot, decidedly. Not Tilly
Slowboy, for she deemed sitting in a cart, on any
terms, to be the highest point of human joys; the
crowning circumstance of earthly hopes. Not the
Baby, I'll be sworn; for it's not in Baby nature to be
warmer or more sound asleep, though its capacity is
great in both respects, than that blessed young Peery-
bingle was, all the way.
You couldn't see very far in the fog, of course: but
you could see a great deal! It's astonishing how
much you may see, in a thicker fog than that, if you
will only take the trouble to look for it.
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