Stephen unconsciously stretched out his hand to detain her.
"But, Mrs.Philbrick," he said eagerly, "pray tell me what you think of the house.

Do you think you can be contented in it ?" "I have not seen it," replied Mercy, in the same curt tone, still moving on.
"Not seen it!" exclaimed Stephen, in a tone which was of such intense astonishment that it effectually roused Mercy's attention.

"Not seen it! Why, did you not know you were on your own stone wall?
There is the house;" and Mercy, following the gesture of his hand, saw, not more than twenty rods beyond the spot where she had been sitting, a shabby, faded, yellow wooden house, standing in a yard which looked almost as neglected as the orchard, from which it was only in part separated by a tumbling stone wall.
Mercy did not speak.

Stephen watched her face in silence for a moment; then he laughed constrainedly, and said,-- "Don't be afraid, Mrs.Philbrick, to say outright that it is the dismallest old barn you ever saw.

That's just what I had said about it hundreds of times, and wondered how anybody could possibly live in it.