"Mike, you villain!" ejaculated the lady, as they ran down into a
ditch, and she sprang to one side to keep the carriage from going
over.
But ere she had time for anything further, one of the axletrees
snapped asunder, and to proceed further in their present condition was
impossible. Alighting from the carriage, and setting her little feet
upon the ground with a vengeance, Madam Conway first scolded Mike
unmercifully for his carelessness, and next chided Maggie for
manifesting no more concern.
"You'd as lief go to destruction as not, I do believe!" said she,
looking carefully after the bandbox containing her purple satin.
"I'd rather go there first," answered Maggie, pointing to a brown
old-fashioned farmhouse about a quarter of a mile away.
At first Madam Conway objected, saying she preferred sitting on the
bank to intruding herself upon strangers; but as it was now noonday,
and the warm September sun poured fiercely down upon her, she finally
concluded to follow Maggie's advice, and gathering up her box and
parasol started for the house, which, with its tansy patch on the
right, and its single poplar tree in front, presented rather an
uninviting appearance.
"Some vulgar creatures live there, I know. Just hear that old tin
horn!" she exclaimed, as a blast, loud and shrill, blown by practiced
lips, told the men in a distant field that dinner was ready.
A nearer approach disclosed to view a slanting-roofed farmhouse such
as is often found in New England, with high, narrow windows, small
panes of glass, and the most indispensable paper curtains of blue
closely shading the windows of what was probably the "best room.
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