I was about to say
something--I know not what--when she put her finger on her lips
and stepped forward.
"Please don't speak loudly," she said. "I am afraid it will
frighten mother. She is asleep yet. I suppose you and your
house have been sliding downhill?"
"That is what has happened," said I. "But I cannot
understand it. It seems to me the most amazing thing that ever
took place on the face of the earth."
"It is very queer," said she, "but hurricanes do blow away
houses, and that must have been a hurricane we had last night,
for the wind was strong enough to loosen any house. I have often
wondered if that house would ever slide downhill."
"My house?"
"Yes," she said. "Soon after it was built I began to think
what a nice clean sweep it could make from the place where it
seemed to be stuck to the side of the mountain, right down here
into the valley."
I could not talk with a girl like this; at least, I could not
meet her on her own conversational grounds. I was so agitated
myself that it seemed unnatural that any one to whom I should
speak should not also be agitated.
"Who are you?" I asked rather brusquely. "At least, to whom
does this house belong?"
"This is my mother's house," said she. "My mother is Mrs.
Carson. We happen just now to be living here by ourselves, so I
cannot call on any man to help you do anything. My brother has
always lived with us, but last week he went away."
"You don't seem to be a bit astonished at what has happened,"
said I.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257