They who slept in this loft had
no fastidious standards of personal luxury. These two buildings,
with some half-dozen out-houses of one sort and another, stood in
an enclosure surrounded by a low white picket fence, which gave
to the place a certain home-like look, spite of the neglected
condition of the ground, which was bare sand, or sparsely tufted
with weeds and wild grass. A few plants, parched and straggling,
stood in pots and tin cans around the door of the dwelling-house.
One hardly knew whether they made the place look less desolate
or more so. But they were token of a woman's hand, and of a
nature which craved something more than the unredeemed
wilderness around her afforded.
A dull and lurid light streamed out from the wide-open door of the
store. Alessandro drew cautiously near. The place was full of men,
and he heard loud laughing and talking. He dared not go in.
Stealing around to the rear, he leaped the fence, and went to the
other house and opened the kitchen door. Here he was not afraid.
Mrs. Hartsel had never any but Indian servants in her employ.
Pages:
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462