MR. HUXTER AT HOME.
When John awoke the next morning he found it difficult at first to understand where he was; but recollection soon came to his aid, and he remembered that he was Mr. Huxter's guest. He rose from the cot-bed, and, going to the window, looked out. The prospect was not a very pleasant one. Just across the street was a pasture, with here and there a gnarled and stunted tree. The immediate neighborhood of Mr. Huxter's house has already been described.
"I don't wonder they call it Hardscrabble," thought John. "I shouldn't like to live here."
At this moment Mr. Huxter's head was thrust in through the open door.
"Come, Oakley," said he, "it's time to get up. We don't want any lazy folks here."
"I was tired with my ride yesterday, and overslept myself," said John.
"Well, dress as quick as you can," said Mr. Huxter, turning to descend the stairs.
"I don't see any washbowl," said John, hesitating.
"You can come downstairs and wash, like the rest of us," said Mr. Huxter. "You needn't expect us to lug up water for you."