It was arduous, and it is probable that the little girls were much longer reaching Bolton than they would have been had they traveled on their two sets of feet all the way; but they persuaded themselves otherwise.

“We can’t be—­a mite—­tired,” panted Matilda, as she tugged Comfort over the last stretch, “for we each of us rode half the way, and a mile and a half ain’t anything.  You walk that every day to school and back.”

“Yes, I do,” assented Comfort.  She could not believe that she was tired, either, although every muscle in her body ached.

Bolton was a large town, and the people from all the neighboring villages went there to do their trading and shopping.  There was a wide main street, with stores on each side; and that day it was full of sleighs and pungs and wood-sleds, and there were so many people that Comfort felt frightened.  She had never been to Bolton without her father or mother.  “Just look at all the folks,” said she.  And she had an uncomfortable feeling that they all stared at her suspiciously, although she did not see how they could know about the ring.  But Matilda was bolder.  “It’s such a pleasant day that they’re all out trading,” said she.  “Guess it’ll storm to-morrow.  Now we want to go to Gerrish’s.  I went there once with mother and Imogen to buy a silver spoon for Cousin Hannah Green when she got married.”

Comfort, trailing the sled behind her, started timidly after Matilda.

Gerrish’s was a small store, but there was a large window full of watches and chains and clocks, and a man with spectacles sat behind it mending watches.

The two little girls went in and stood at the counter, and a thin man with gray whiskers, who was Mr. Gerrish himself, came forward to wait upon them.  Matilda nudged Comfort.

“You ask him—­it’s your ring,” she whispered.

But Comfort shook her head.  She was almost ready to cry.  “You’d ought to when I’m giving you the dollar,” whispered Matilda, with another nudge.  Mr. Gerrish stood waiting, and he frowned a little; he was a nervous man.  “Ask him,” whispered Matilda, fiercely.

Suddenly Comfort Pease turned herself about and ran out of Gerrish’s, with a great wail of inarticulate words about not wanting any ring.  The door banged violently after her.  Matilda Stebbins looked after her in a bewildered way; then she looked up at Mr. Gerrish, who was frowning harder.  “If you girls don’t want anything, you’d better stay out of doors with your sled,” said he.  And Matilda trembled and gathered up the sled-rope, and the door banged after her.  Then Mr. Gerrish said something to the man mending watches in the window, and went back to his desk in the rear of the store.

Matilda could just see Comfort running down the street toward home, and she ran after her.  She could run faster than Comfort.  As she got nearer she could see people turning and looking curiously after Comfort, and when she came up to her she saw she was crying.  “Why, you great baby, Comfort Pease,” said she, “going along the road crying!”