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Pigling Bland went on alone dejectedly; he came to cross roads and a sign-post—"To Market-town, 5 miles," "Over the Hills, 4 miles," "To Pettitoes Farm, 3 miles."
Pigling Bland was shocked, there was little hope of sleeping in Market Town, and to-morrow was the hiring fair; it was deplorable to think how much time had been wasted by the frivolity of Alexander.
He glanced wistfully along the road towards the hills, and then set off, walking obediently the other way, buttoning up his coat against the rain. He had never wanted to go; and the idea of standing all
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