Miss Dorcas, too, was a little
uneasy. It was finally decided that Anne should wear one of Lizzie's
frocks and her sunbonnet and that if they met any one on the road, Miss
Dorcas was to say in a loud voice, "Lizzie!" and Anne was to answer,
"Yes, ma'am."
Mr. Collins brought out an old buggy with an old horse called Firefly
and helped Miss Dorcas in, explaining carefully, "This ain't no kicker
and it ain't no jumper. It's jest plain horse with good horse-sense. If
you don't cross yo' lines, you can drive him anywhere."
"I don't know much about driving," confessed Miss Dorcas. "That is, I've
been driving a great deal but I've never held the lines.--Whoa! get up,
sir!" She gave a gurgly cluck, and flapped the lines up and down on
Firefly's back, with her elbows high in air. Firefly started meekly off
on a jog trot. Mr. Collins looked after them.
"Dumb brutes is got heap more sense than humans," he exclaimed. "They
understands women. Now, Miss Dorcas she's whoain' and geein' and hawin'
that horse at the same time, but somehow he knows what she wants him to
do and he's gwine to do it."
Firefly followed the winding of the river-road mile after mile, along
meadows, fields, and wooded hills, fair in the hazy sunlight.
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