Willy's Papa told him that as he had been so long travelling in the coach which was a close carriage, he would take him to another part of the train where the carriages were open, as he had promised to do.

Willy was much pleased at this, and when the train stopped at a station, they got out, and walked to another part of it.

He saw nothing like the open carriages he had been used to; there was neither phaeton, nor gig, nor caleche; there were, it is true, a number of immensely large carts full of people carrying baskets, and they sat down on plain wooden seats in long rows. Willy with his Papa and Mamma sat next to a rosy-cheeked young woman, who had a large basket of live fowls, and a smaller one of eggs and butter.

"I am sure you could not carry those heavy baskets?" said Willy.

"No, that I could not indeed," replied the young woman; "I am obliged to get some one to help me to take them from the station to market, or else pay the omnibus for doing so. But before we had a railroad, I did not go so far as Derby; I sold my things at Kegworth, and I could get no price for fowls there; so I only took butter and eggs to market."

Willy had already made an acquaintance with the fowls in the basket, the young woman having placed it under his feet as a footstool, for his little legs were too short to reach the ground. Now Willy having a piece of the bun in his hand, the remains of the luncheon, which he was only nibbling because he was no longer hungry, some of the crumbs fell into the basket and were greedily picked up by the chickens; and finding it very good, they tried to put their beaks between the twigs of the wicker to catch some more. Willy, seeing this, every now and then fed them; but there was one old hen who, being stronger than the chickens, pushed them away, in order to get all the crumbs for herself. "No, no," said Willy, "get away, and let the chickens have their share." However, the hen at last contrived to thrust her head through the bars of the basket, but there she was caught, for she could not get it back again. This made Willy laugh. "It serves you right," said he, "I am sure you cannot swallow anything now you are caught in a trap;" but when he saw that the hen was really choking in struggling to get her head free, he was sorry for her, and the young woman opened the basket, and got the head of the hen back again, but she was a good deal hurt, and lay at the bottom of the basket very sulky.

"She is well punished for her greediness," said the girl, "but she will have time to come round again before I get to market, or else I should not be able to sell her; folks would fancy there was something the matter with her, and I want to get a good price for my fowls, that I may have something more than my mother reckons on: and then I shall be able to spend that in tea and sugar; for tea, she says, comforts her more than any thing."

"Is anything the matter with your mother," asked Willy, "that she wants to be comforted?"

"Oh dear, she is blind," said the girl, "and I am sure that's uncomfortable enough. Stone blind! and yet she is not an old woman neither, but she has got what the doctors call a cataract, and they say it can be cured, but that the time is not yet come to cure it; but when it does, we are to take her to Derby to the hospital, and there the doctors will do something to her eyes. Oh, I don't like to think of it," said she, shuddering, "but then they say she will see again, just as she did years ago."

"You need not be afraid of the operation for your mother," said Willy's mother; "I assure you it is not painful."

"Why, sure you have not had it done to your eyes, Ma'am?"

"No; but I know from those who have: it is called couching, and if the eyes are carefully bound up afterwards till they get strong, she may see as well as ever."

"But," said Willy, "I suppose you will stay with her at the hospital to take care of her."

"No; I shall not be able," replied the market girl, "I must stay at home to take care of the house, and of my younger brother and sister, Johnny and Betsey, who go to school."

"Then," asked Willy, "does no body stay with your poor blind mother when you go to market?"

"It's lucky enough that one of the market days is of a Saturday, when there is a holiday at school, and on Thursdays, that's to-day, the little girl stays at home on purpose to attend to mother. Then, as for the hospital, she will want for no care there, for we have a grandmother living at Derby, and though she is old, she makes as good a nurse as anyone; and she will be sure to take care of her own daughter. Besides, there are plenty of doctors and nurses at the hospital," said she. "Oh, Derby's a famous place for poor folks; I suppose you know all about the fine gardens Mr. Joseph Strutt has made for the people to walk about and amuse themselves in?"

"No, indeed," replied Willy's mother; "we do not know Mr. Joseph Strutt."

"Not know him!" cried the girl, lifting up her hands with astonishment, "I thought every body knew Mr. Joseph Strutt. Well, you are going to Derby, where he lives; so pray go and see him and his house full of curiosities."

"But as we are not acquainted with him, we cannot take the liberty of going to his house, or walking in his gardens."

"Oh, but you may," said the girl, "house and gardens are open to everybody, gentle or simple; but the gardens, I assure you," added she, with a look of self-satisfaction, "were made for the poor more than for the rich; you rich people have gardens of your own, but you may come and see the Arboretum, that is its name, and welcome, and then I am sure you will say that none of the gardens of the rich can compare with this. And if you chance to meet Mr. Joseph Strutt there, it will do your heart good even to look at him; he is so gentle and so kind, and from his looks you might think that instead of doing good to all the people about him, they were doing good to him."

"Oh, do let us go and see him," said Willy, "and all his curiosities and the gardens too." His father said they would try to get introduced to him, for he liked to see good people, extremely. When they reached Derby, they took leave of the market girl. Willy helped her to lift the basket of chickens, and he bid them good by, too; and he was very sorry to think he should see her no more. "I should have liked to have seen her little brother and sister, too," said he.

"I am afraid you have not much chance of that," said his mother; "but who can tell?"