"Is there any place where I could bait my horses and get a dinner for my family?"
"Yes, sir; there's a farm-house a quarter of a mile back, where travellers sometimes stop. If they're not through dinner, they'll give you some and welcome."
"Oh, sir," said Mrs. Curtis, "we couldn't think of intruding unless they would allow us to pay them."
The man walked on, after describing the house, laughing to himself.
The house stood on the main street leading to the city, the villagers finding ready access thereto by a stage-coach running twice a day. Everything about the farm looked neat and thriving. It was almost the only house in the village which exhibited any pretensions to elegance. It had a bow window on the south side, and three Luthern windows in the roof. There was a garden filled with flowers, and at the side a road or avenue leading to the immense barns in the rear.
[Mr. Taylor's Farm-house.
Vol. I., p. 20.]
In answer to Mr. Curtis' knock, a young girl opened the door, and presently called her mother to answer the question whether they could put up there for an hour.
"Walk right in," she answered, cordially; "dinner will be ready in a few minutes. If you'll please, sir, to drive the horses round to the barn, one of our men will take care of them."
Mrs. Curtis was soon resting on a sofa in a cool, pleasant parlor, inhaling the fragrance of the June roses, which came through the open window; the children were running about the farm-yard, almost wild with delight, and nurse was following them, nearly as much pleased as they were.