"Good-bye, my dears! I shall be back early on Monday morning; so take
care of yourselves, and be sure you all go and hear Mr. Emerboy preach
to-morrow. My regards to your mother, John. Come, Solon!"
But Solon merely cocked one ear, and remained a fixed fact; for long
experience had induced the philosophic beast to take for his motto the
Yankee maxim, "Be sure you're right, then go ahead!" He knew things
were not right; therefore he did not go ahead.
"Oh, by-the-way, girls, don't forget to pay Tommy Mullein for bringing
up the cow: he expects it to-night. And, Di, don't sit up till
daylight, nor let Laura stay out in the dew. Now, I believe, I'm off.
Come, Solon!"
But Solon only cocked the other ear, gently agitated his mortified
tail, as premonitory symptoms of departure, and never stirred a hoof,
being well aware that it always took three "comes" to make a "go."
"Bless me! I've forgotten my spectacles. They are probably shut up in
that volume of Herbert on my table. Very awkward to find myself
without them ten miles away. Thank you, John. Don't neglect to water
the lettuce, Nan, and don't overwork yourself, my little 'Martha.'
Come"----
At this juncture, Solon suddenly went off, like "Mrs. Gamp," in a sort
of walking swoon, apparently deaf and blind to all mundane matters,
except the refreshments awaiting him ten miles away; and the benign
old pastor disappeared, humming "Hebron" to the creaking accompaniment
of the bulgy chaise.
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