"Where shall we put them, do you think, Mr. Masters? I'm quite anxious. Here, on the verandah, do you think?—or on the green, where we mean to have supper? or would it be better to go into the house?"
"As a general principle, Mrs. Reverdy, I object to houses. When you can, keep out of them. So I say. And there comes one of your guests. I will take my horse out of the road."
Mrs. Reverdy objected and protested and ran to summon a servant, but the minister had his way and led his horse off to the stable. While he was gone, the little old green waggon which brought Miss Barry came at a soft jog up the drive and stopped before the door. Mrs. Reverdy came flying out and then down the steps to help her alight.
"It's a long ways to your place, Mis' Reverdy; I declare, I'm kind o' stiff," said the old lady as she mounted to the piazza. There she stood still and surveyed the prospect. And her conclusion burst forth in an unequivocal, "Ain't it elegant!"
"I am delighted you like it," said Mrs. Reverdy with her running laugh.
"Won't you sit down?"
"I hain't got straightened out yet, after drivin' the horse so long. It does put me in a kind o' cramp, somehow, to drive,—'most allays."
"Is the horse so hard-mouthed?"
"La! bless you, I never felt of his mouth. He don't do nothin'; I don't expect he would do nothin'; but I allays think he's a horse, and there's no tellin'."
"That's very true," said Mrs. Reverdy, the laugh of condescending acquiescence mingled with a little sense of fun now. "But do sit down; you'll be tired standing."
"There's Mrs. Flandin's waggin, I guess, comin'; she was 'most ready when I come by. Is this your sister?"—looking at Gertrude.