"He hasn't even gumption enough to
throw down a load of stone there. Drive in, Laura, and I'll put up the
bars." Fleetfoot took us through the opening, and then Mr. Harry jumped
into the buggy and took up the reins again.
We had to go very slowly up a narrow, rough road. The bushes scratched
and scraped against the buggy, and Mr. Harry looked very much annoyed.
"No man liveth to himself," said Miss Laura, softly. "This man's
carelessness is giving you trouble. Why doesn't he cut these branches
that overhang the road?"
"He can't do it, because his abominable laziness won't let him," said
Mr. Harry. "I'd like to be behind him for a week, and I'd make him step
a little faster. We have arrived at last, thank goodness."
There was a small grass clearing in the midst of the woods. Chips and
bits of wood were littered about, and across the clearing was a
roughly-built house of unpainted boards. The front door was propped open
by a stick. Some of the panes of glass in the windows were broken, and
the whole house had a melancholy, dilapidated look. I thought that I had
never seen such a sad-looking place.
"It seems as if there was no one about," said Mr.
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