As usual, I took William Adolphus
with me for company. William Adolphus is my favourite among my six cats.
He is black, with a white dicky and beautiful white paws.
He sat up on the seat beside me and looked far more like a gentleman
than many a man I've seen in a similar position.
Alexander Abraham's place was about three miles along
the White Sands road. I knew the house as soon as I came
to it by its neglected appearance. It needed paint badly;
the blinds were crooked and torn; weeds grew up to the
very door. Plainly, there was no woman about THAT place.
Still, it was a nice house, and the barns were splendid.
My father always said that when a man's barns were bigger than his
house it was a sign that his income exceeded his expenditure.
So it was all right that they should be bigger; but it was
all wrong that they should be trimmer and better painted.
Still, thought I, what else could you expect of a woman hater?
"But Alexander Abraham evidently knows how to run a farm,
even it he is a woman hater," I remarked to William Adolphus
as I got out and tied the pony to the railing.
I had driven up to the house from the back way and now I was opposite
a side door opening on the veranda.
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