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"I'll jist put some bread, an' eggs, an' coffee, an' pork, an'
things in a basket, an' I'll have 'em took up fur ye, with yer
trunk, an' I'll go with ye an' take some milk. Here, Danny!" she
cried, and directly her husband, a long, thin, sun-burnt, sandy-headed
man, appeared, and to him she told, in a few words, our
story, and ordered him to hitch up the cart and be ready to take
our trunk and the basket up to Dutton's old house.
When all was ready, we walked up the hill, followed by Danny and
the cart. We found the house a large, low, old-fashioned farmhouse,
standing near the road with a long piazza in front, and a
magnificent view of mountain-tops in the rear. Within, the lower
rooms were large and low, with quite a good deal of furniture in
them. There was no earthly reason why we should not be perfectly
jolly and comfortable here. The more we saw, the more delighted we
were at the odd experience we were about to have. Mrs. Carson
busied herself in getting things in order for our supper and
general accommodation. She made Danny carry our trunk to a bedroom
in the second story, and then set him to work building a fire in a
great fire-place, with a crane for the kettle.
When she had done all she could, it was nearly dark, and after
lighting a couple of candles, she left us, to go home and get
supper for her own family.
As she and Danny were about to depart in the cart, she ran back to
ask us if we would like to borrow a dog.
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