The husbands took on the
politely surly look required of them. The blonde son's eyes still
sought the brunette daughter, but it was furtively done and quite
unsuccessfully, for the daughter was now doing a little glaring on her
own account. The blonde matron had just swept her eyes across the
daughter's skirt, estimating the fit and material of it with contempt
so artistically veiled that it could almost be understood in the dark.
II
The big bays swung to the brow of the hill with ease, and dashed into
a small circular clearing, where a quaint little two-story building,
with a mossy watering-trough out in front, nestled under the shade of
majestic old trees that reared their brown and scarlet crowns proudly
into the sky. A long, low porch ran across the front of the structure,
and a complaining sign hung out announcing, in dim, weather-flecked
letters on a cracked board, that this was the "Tutt House." A
gray-headed man, in brown overalls and faded blue jumper, stood on the
porch and shook his fist at the stage as it whirled by.
"What a delightfully old-fashioned inn!" exclaimed the pretty
daughter.
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