The man was furious, his face was red, and he was trying to shake off the two women who were clinging to him, while he was pulling Rosa’s skirt with all his might and stammering incoherently.

But Madame Tellier, who was very indignant, went up to her brother, seized him by the shoulders, and threw him out of the room with such violence that he fell against the wall in the passage, and a minute afterward they heard him pumping water on his head in the yard, and when he reappeared with the cart he was quite calm.

They started off in the same way as they had come the day before, and the little white horse started off with his quick, dancing trot.  Under the hot sun, their fun, which had been checked during dinner, broke out again.  The girls now were amused at the jolting of the cart, pushed their neighbors’ chairs, and burst out laughing every moment.

There was a glare of light over the country, which dazzled their eyes, and the wheels raised two trails of dust along the highroad.  Presently, Fernande, who was fond of music, asked Rosa to sing something, and she boldly struck up the “Gros Cure de Meudon,” but Madame Tellier made her stop immediately, as she thought it a very unsuitable song for such a day, and she added: 

“Sing us something of Beranger’s.”  And so, after a moment’s hesitation, Rosa began Beranger’s song “The Grandmother” in her worn-out voice, and all the girls, and even Madame Tellier herself, joined in the chorus: 

        “How I regret
        My dimpled arms,
        My nimble legs,
        And vanished charms.”

“That is first rate,” Rivet declared, carried away by the rhythm, and they shouted the refrain to every verse, while Rivet beat time on the shaft with his foot, and with the reins on the back of the horse, who, as if he himself were carried away by the rhythm, broke into a wild gallop, and threw all the women in a heap, one on top of the other, on the bottom of the conveyance.

They got up, laughing as if they were mad, and the Gong went on, shouted at the top of their voices, beneath the burning sky, among the ripening grain, to the rapid gallop of the little horse, who set off every time the refrain was sung, and galloped a hundred yards, to their great delight, while occasionally a stone-breaker by the roadside sat up and looked at the load of shouting females through his wire spectacles.

When they got out at the station, the carpenter said: 

“I am sorry you are going; we might have had some good times together.”  But Madame Tellier replied very sensibly:  “Everything has its right time, and we cannot always be enjoying ourselves.”  And then he had a sudden inspiration: 

“Look here, I will come and see you at Fecamp next month.”  And he gave Rosa a roguish and knowing look.

“Come,” his sister replied, “you must be sensible; you may come if you like, but you are not to be up to any of your tricks.”