As soon as it was decided that they were to go, her grandfather went off and borrowed Mrs. Maddock’s donkey and the little cart, to drive them in, for Norton was more than a mile and a half away, and that was too far, they thought, for Jessie’s little feet to walk.  So the cart was brought, and granny and grandfather sat on the little wooden seat, while Jessie sat on a rug in the bottom of the cart, at their feet.  She liked it better there, she thought, for there was no fear of her falling out, and she could look all about her and feel quite safe and comfortable all the time.  Granp gave her the whip to hold, but she had no work to do, for Moses, the donkey, behaved so well, he never once needed it all the way to Norton.

Jessie was very glad, for she could not bear to think of anything being punished on such a lovely afternoon.  The birds were singing, the hedges were covered with little green leaves, just bursting forth.  Here and there a blackthorn bush was in full flower, and filled Jessie with delight.  She sat very quiet, looking about her with a serious happy face, drinking it all in, and evidently thinking deeply.  Her grandfather watched her with the keenest interest.

“I reckon it looks funny to you, don’t it, little maid, after all the streets and houses and bustle you’ve been accustomed to?” he asked at last.

Jessie nodded.  “There’s such lots of room, and no peoples,” she said soberly, “and at home there was such lots of peoples and no room.  Where are they all gone, granp?”

“Gone to London, I reckon,” answered granp, with a laugh.  “You’ll find it quiet, and you’ll miss the shops, little maid.”

“Shops!” said granny indignantly; “we shall be in Norton in a little while now, and there’s shops enough there to satisfy any one, I should hope.”

But when they reached the little town, and Jessie was lifted down from the cart, and put to stand in the street while granny dismounted, she looked about her, wondering greatly where the shops could be.  There did not seem to be many people here either.  Two sauntered up to look at the donkey-cart, and to pass the time of day with Mr. Dawson, but that was all.  There were no omnibuses, no motors, no incessant tramp, tramp, tramp, of horses’ hoofs, making the never-ceasing dull roar to which she had been accustomed all her life, and Jessie missed it.  Suddenly she felt very lonely and forlorn.  The world was so big and empty and silent, and her mother so very, very far away.  There seemed to be nobody left to see, or care, or hear, no matter what happened.

But just at the moment when her tears were nearly brimming over, she heard her grandfather say proudly, “Yes, this is Jessie, my little grandchild, Lizzie’s little girl,” and turning her head she saw him holding out his hand to her, and all was well once more.  With granp’s big hand holding hers so closely she could not feel that no one heard or cared, and the day looked all bright and sunny again.