“I’ll turn down the lane,” said the little doctor, “so”; and suiting the action to the word, Polly could feel that they were winding down the narrow little road over toward Grandma Bascom’s.  She could almost smell the violets and anemones under the carpet of snow, and could scarcely restrain herself from jumping out for a riotous run.

“Don’t go too far away,” she cried in sudden alarm.  “We must be there by the time the stage does.”  And she applied her eye to the little circular glass in the back of the gig.  “Will it never come—­oh! here it is, here it is, dear Dr. Fisher.”  And with a quick flourish around of the old horse, they were soon before the little brown house, and helping out the inmates of the stage, who with more speed than grace were hurrying over the steps.

Joel was down before Mr. Tisbett had fairly drawn up in front of the gate.  “Hold on,” roared the stage driver, “I don’t want you to break your neck with me.”

“It’s really here!” cried Phronsie with wide eyes, standing quite still on a hummock of frozen snow, with her eyes riveted on the house.  “It really is!” Polly had raced up the winding path, and over the flat stone to drop a kiss on the little old door.

“Oh! oh!  Mamsie, do come!” she cried to Mrs. Pepper on the path.

“Hum!  I think, Jasper, you and I will let them alone for a few moments,” said Mr. King, who was still within the stage.  “Here, my good fellow,” to Mr. Tisbett, “you say it’s all comfortable in there for them?”

“Yes, yes, sir,” said Mr. Tisbett heartily.  “Good land!  Mis’ Henderson had her boys come down airly this mornin’ and make the fires; and there’s a mighty sight of things to eat.”  The stage-driver put one foot on the hind wheel to facilitate conversation, and smacked his lips.

“All very well.  Now you may drive us down the road a bit,” said Mr. King, withdrawing his head to the depths of the lumbering old vehicle again.

“Ain’t goin’ in?” cried Mr. Tisbett, opening his round eyes at him in astonishment.

“Get up and drive us on, I say,” commanded the old gentleman, “and cease your talking,” which had the effect to send honest Mr. Tisbett clambering expeditiously up to the box, where he presently revenged himself by driving furiously over all the hard frozen ruts he could quickly select, determined not to stop till he was obliged to.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Mr. King within, holding to the strap at the side, as well as to the leather band of the swinging seat in front.  “What an abominable road!”

“The road is well enough,” said Jasper, who couldn’t bear to have a word uttered against Badgertown, “it’s the fellow’s driving that makes it rough.  Here, can’t you be a little more careful to keep the road?” he called, thrusting his head out of the window.  But he only narrowly escaped losing his brown traveling cap for his pains, as the stage gave a worse lurch than before, to introduce a series of creakings and joltings hitherto unparalleled.