Mrs. Carson
busied herself in getting things in order for our supper and
general accommodation. She made Danny carry our trunk to a bedroom
in the second story, and then set him to work building a fire in a
great fire-place, with a crane for the kettle.
When she had done all she could, it was nearly dark, and after
lighting a couple of candles, she left us, to go home and get
supper for her own family.
As she and Danny were about to depart in the cart, she ran back to
ask us if we would like to borrow a dog.
"There aint nuthin to be afeard of," she said; "for nobody hardly
ever takes the trouble to lock the doors in these parts, but bein'
city folks, I thought ye might feel better if ye had a dog."
We made haste to tell her that we were not city folks, but declined
the dog. Indeed, Euphemia remarked that she would be much more
afraid of a strange dog than of robbers.
After supper, which we enjoyed as much as any meal we ever ate in
our lives, we each took a candle, and after arranging our bedroom
for the night, we explored the old house. There were lots of
curious things everywhere,--things that were apparently so "old
timey," as my wife remarked, that David Dutton did not care to take
them with him to his new farm, and so left them for his son, who
probably cared for them even less than his father did. There was a
garret extending over the whole house, and filled with old
spinning-wheels, and strings of onions, and all sorts of antiquated
bric-a-brac, which was so fascinating to me that I could scarcely
tear myself away from it; but Euphemia, who was dreadfully afraid
that I would set the whole place on fire, at length prevailed on me
to come down.
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