“Now for our house,” cried Desiré as they drove onto the main road again. “Please go very slowly, Jack, so that we won’t miss it.”
They all peered eagerly out of the wagon; and when they saw, up a little lane, a dilapidated-looking building, they all exclaimed together—“That must be it!”
Jack drove as close as the underbrush would allow, and they proceeded on foot until they were standing before a small log cabin, windowless, doorless, a huge flat stone for a doorstep, and a chimney built of irregular stones.
CHAPTER XV
THE OLD GODET HOUSE
“No floors,” observed Priscilla, peeking in.
“It’s a mere shell,” said Jack; “everything rotted away but the walls and the chimney.”
“But how stout they are!” exclaimed Desiré, triumphantly.
“We’ll look at it again when we come back this way, if you like,” promised Jack presently; “but now I want to get on to Windsor.”
“There’s the remains of a garden back of the cabin,” commented Priscilla, as they drove away. “I can see three or four flowers.”
“The first seeds of which were doubtless planted by our—how many times great-grandmother, Jack?” asked Desiré.