"How I should like to stop there over night!"
"You would probably wish yourself away before morning, Evelyn,"
replied her mother indifferently. "No doubt it would be a mere siege
of discomfort."
The blonde matron turned to her husband. The pretty daughter had been
looking at the picturesque "inn" between the heads of this lady and
her son.
"Edward, please pull down the shade behind me," she directed. "There
is quite a draught from that broken window."
The pretty daughter bit her lip. The brunette matron continued to
stare at the shade in the exact spot upon which her gaze had been
before directed, and she never quivered an eyelash. The young man
seemed very uncomfortable, and he tried to look his apologies to the
pretty daughter, but she could not see him now, not even if her eyes
had been all corners.
They were bowling along through another avenue of trees when the
driver suddenly shouted, "Whoa there!"
The horses were brought up with a jerk that was well nigh fatal to the
assortment of dignity inside the coach. A loud roaring could be heard,
both ahead and in the rear, a sharp splitting like a fusillade of
pistol shots, then a creaking and tearing of timbers.
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