I should take it to be two or three hundred years old; and I shouldn't think the house had had money spent upon it within the memory of man.

It's a dilapidated tumbledown old gazabo of a place, and yet there's a kind of prettiness about it in summer-time, when the garden is full of flowers.

There's a river runs through some of the land about half a mile from the house." "What kind of a place is Crosber ?" "A bit of a village on the road from here to Portsmouth.

The house I'm telling you about is a mile from Crosber at the least, away from the main road.

There's two or three lanes or by-roads about there, and it lies in one of them that turns sharp off by the Blue Boar, which is about the only inn where you can bait a horse thereabouts." "I'll ride over there to-morrow morning, and have a look at this queer old house.