49 My Last Home

           

           OnedayduringthissummerthegroomcleanedanddressedmewithsuchextraordinarycarethatIthoughtsomenewchangemustbeathand;hetrimmedmyfetlocksandlegs,passedthetarbrushovermyhoofs,andevenpartedmyforelock.Ithinktheharnesshadanextrapolish.Willieseemedhalf-anxious,half-merry,ashegotintothechaisewithhisgrandfather.

           “Iftheladiestaketohim,”saidtheoldgentleman,“they’llbesuitedandhe’llbesuited.Wecanbuttry.”

           Atthedistanceofamileortwofromthevillagewecametoapretty,lowhouse,withalawnandshrubberyatthefrontandadriveuptothedoor.Willierangthebell,andaskedifMissBlomefieldorMissEllenwasathome.Yes,theywere.So,whileWilliestayedwithme,Mr.Thoroughgoodwentintothehouse.Inabouttenminuteshereturned,followedbythreeladies;onetall,palelady,wrappedinawhiteshawl,leanedonayoungerlady,withdarkeyesandamerryface;theother,averystately-lookingperson,wasMissBlomefield.Theyallcameandlookedatmeandaskedquestions.Theyoungerlady—thatwasMissEllen—tooktomeverymuch;shesaidshewassuresheshouldlikeme,Ihadsuchagoodface.Thetall,paleladysaidthatsheshouldalwaysbenervousinridingbehindahorsethathadoncebeendown,asImightcomedownagain,andifIdidsheshouldnevergetoverthefright.

           “Yousee,ladies,”saidMr.

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