"I don't know as that fellow understands the colt's feet very well. I guess one of the shoes is set wrong," said Elbridge.
"Better look after it."
Northwick left Elbridge the reins, and got out of the cutter at the flight of granite steps which rose to the ground-floor of his wooden palace. Broad levels of piazza stretched away from the entrance under a portico of that carpentry which so often passes with us for architecture. In spite of the effect of organic flimsiness in every wooden structure but a log cabin, or a fisherman's cottage shingled to the ground, the house suggested a perfect functional comfort. There were double windows on all round the piazzas; a mellow glow from the incandescent electrics penetrated to the outer dusk from them; when the door was opened to Northwick, a pleasant heat gushed out, together with the perfume of flowers, and the odors of dinner.
"Dinner is just served, sir," said the inside man, disposing of Northwick's overcoat and hat on the hall table with respectful scruple.
Northwick hesitated. He stood over the register, and vaguely held his hands in the pleasant warmth indirectly radiated from the steam-pipes below.
"The young ladies were just thinking you wouldn't be home till the next train," the man suggested, at the sound of voices from the dining-room.
"They have some one with them?" Northwick asked.
"Yes, sir. The rector, sir; Mr. Wade, sir."
"I'll come down by and by," Northwick said, turning to the stairs. "Say I had a late lunch before I left town."
"Yes, sir," said the man.