|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 41
"And that is all, this time. Aunt Melville's notion of a house seems to
be a place for entertaining the 'best society.' Her zeal is certainly
getting the better of her conscience and judgment. She cannot honestly
buy the plans from the owner of the house, because he never owned them;
they belong to the architect, and she ought to know better than to
advise the use of material that would have to be brought at great
expense from a long distance. If cobble-stones and boulders were
indigenous in this region, and old stone fences could be had for the
asking, I should like to use them, but they are not. It is also evident
that she did not penetrate far into the interior of the house or she
would have discovered an unpardonable defect--the absence of 'back'
stairs. I do not think it very serious in such a plan, where the one
flight is near the centre of the house and is not very conspicuous,
but Aunt Melville would lie awake nights if she knew there were no back
stairs for the servants."
[Illustration: FIRST FLOOR OF THE PROMISE.]
The next morning Jim appeared with the express wagon, and Bessie
climbed upon the high seat beside him under the big brown umbrella, her
Gainsborough hat encircled with a garland of white daisies, huge
bunches of the same blossoms being attached somewhat indiscriminately
to her dress by way of imparting a rural air, and together they drove
off in search of old and forgotten household gods. Jill had suggested
sending them out to investigate, reporting what they found, and
purchasing afterward if thought best, but Jack urged that it would be
wiser to secure their treasures at once, lest the thrifty farmers,
finding their old heir-looms in demand, should mark up the prices while
they were deliberating--a view with which Bessie fully concurred.
[Illustration: SECOND FLOOR OF THE PROMISE.]
Beguiling the way with the duet that is always so delightful to the
performers, whatever the audience may think of it, they followed the
pleasant country roads for many miles without finding a castle that
seemed to promise desirable plunder. A worn-out horseshoe lying in the
road was their first prize. It presaged good luck, and was to be gilded
and hung above the library door. At length they came to a typical old
farm-house, gray and weather-beaten, but still dignified and well cared
for. The big barns stood modestly back from the highway, and the yard
about the front door, enclosed by a once white picket fence, was filled
with the fragrance of cinnamon roses and syringas. As they drove up at
the side of the house across the open lawn, the close cropping of which
showed that the cows were wont to take their final bite upon it as they
came to the yard at night, they encountered an elderly man carrying a
large jug in one hand and apparently just starting for the fields with
some refreshing drink for the workmen.
"Good morning, sir," said Jim, touching his hat. Bessie smiled and
asked, "Are you the farmer?"
"Wal, yes ma'am; I suppose I am. Leastways I own the farm and get my
living off from it as well as I can--same as my fathers did afore me."
"How lovely! Have you got any old--I mean, can you give us a drink of
water? We--we happen to be passing and we're very thirsty."
"Just as well as not. The well is right behind the house. You can jump
down and help yourselves."
"You don't mean jump down the well," said Jim, laughing.
"Not exactly. Will your horse stand?"
"Oh, yes."
When Bessie saw the old well-sweep, which for some unaccountable reason
had not been swept away by a modern pump, she exclaimed in a stage
whisper: "Wouldn't it be glorious if we could carry it home?"
Jim found the cool water most refreshing and thought he would rather
carry home the well.
"What an enormous wood pile," Bessie continued aloud, in a desperate
endeavor to lead up to andirons by an unsuspicious route. "Do you burn
wood?"
"Not so much as we used to. The women folks think they must have it to
cook with, but we use coal a good deal in the winter."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|