It was about a week after this, when one night a horse and wagon came up to the back of the house from the road, the gentleman who had been driving leading the horse. It was late, long past Mr. Skillcorn's usual hour of retiring, but some errand of business had kept him abroad and he stood there looking on. The stars gave light enough.
"Can you fasten my horse where he may stand a little while, sir? without taking him out?"
"I guess I can," replied Philetus, with reasonable confidence,--"if there's a rope's end some place--"
And forthwith he went back into the house to seek it. The gentleman patiently holding his horse meanwhile, till he came out.
"How is Mr. Hugh to-night?"
"Well--he ain't just so smart, they say," responded Philetus, insinuating the rope's end as awkwardly as possible among the horse's head-gear,--"I believe he's dying."
Instead of going round now to the front of the house, Mr. Carleton knocked gently at the kitchen door and asked the question anew of Barby.
"He's--Come in, sir, if you please," she said, opening wide the door for him to enter,--"I'll tell 'em you're here."
"Do not disturb any one for me," said he.
"I won't disturb 'em!" said Barby, in a tone a little though unconsciously significant.