“There’s a girl, too, isn’t there?”
“Yes, Sally. She looks like her ma, except she’s red-headed like her pa.”
“I’m glad to know something of the family, but I’m afraid I shan’t enjoy myself very much among the Foxes.”
With such conversation Harry beguiled the way. On the whole, he enjoyed the ride. There were hills and here and there the road ran through the woods. He could hear the singing of birds, and, notwithstanding what he had heard he felt in good spirits.
At length the stage entered the village of Colebrook. It was a village of moderate size—about two hundred houses being scattered over a tract half a mile square. Occupying a central position was the tavern, a square, two-story building, with a piazza in front, on which was congregated a number of villagers. After rapidly scanning them, the driver said:
“Do you see that tall man over there leanin’ against a post?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your guardeen! That’s John Fox himself, as large as life, and just about as homely.”