M. and we went to the pantrey together. When going back
upstairs with some cake and canned pairs, we heard a door close
below. We both shreiked, and the Familey got up, but found no
one except Leila, who could not sleep and was out getting some
air. They were very unpleasant, but as Jane observed, families
have little or no gratitude.
I come now to the Stranger again.
On the next afternoon, while engaged in a few words with
the station hackman, who said I was taking his trade although
not needing the Money--which was a thing he could not possably
know--while he had a familey and a horse to feed, I saw the
Stranger of the milk wagon, et cetera, emerge from the
one-thirty five.
He then looked at a piece of _mauve note paper_, and said:
"How much to take me up the Greenfield Road?"
"Where to?" I asked in a pre-emptory manner.
He then looked at a piece of _mauve note paper_, and said:
"To a big pine tree at the foot of Oak Hill. Do you know
the Place?"
Did I know the Place? Had I not, as a child, rolled and
even turned summersalts down that hill? Was it not on my very
ancestrial acres? It was, indeed.
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