ment, and walked boldly with apron strings fluttering, Carron led the chestnut around the drive past the greater entrance and, swinging into the angle of the left wing, past its worn, white front, with painted decorations of wood above the windows and steps going up to a little door retired under the roof of the porch; past these and, just beyond, turned aside down a wagon track which branched and descended at the left of the house. The barn stood in a clearing close-clipped by trees with brown sift of pine-needles upon its roof. It was large, but of an appearance as dilapidated as the gate-posts, and Carron thought anxiously of the chestnut’s welfare. The boy led straight through the door, the lintel of which sagged alarmingly, through a very cavern of ancient odors, cobwebs and echoes, slid another door and emerged upon quite a different place, smaller, well-kept, altogether more modern—evidently an addition built upon the greater stable. There was no vehicle in the carriage house, no carriage harness; a few bridles hung on pegs. The only saddle was a side-saddle. There were three stalls, one occupied by a mustang, with an ugly head and prettily built legs, two empty. In the first of these the boy strewed straw and shook down hay. The last, evidently habitually occupied, just now was empty.
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