“That was certainly very kind,” said Mrs. Drane, “considering that she does not know us at all, except through Dr. Tolbridge.  I remember his speaking of her.”

“That place over there,” said Andy, “you can jest see the tops of the chimneys, that’s called Cobhurst; that’s where old Matthias Butterwood used to live.  It was an awful big house for one man, but he was queer.  There’s nobody livin’ there now but two young people, sort of temporary, I guess, though the place belongs to ’em.  I don’t think they are any too well off.  They don’t give us hack-drivers much custom, never havin’ any friends comin’ or goin’, or trunks or anything.  He’s got no other business, they say, and don’t know no more about farmin’ than a potato knows about preachin’.  There’s nothin’ on the place that amounts to anything except the barn.  There’s a wonderful barn there, that old Butterwood spent nobody knows how much money on, and he a bachelor.  You can’t see the barn from here, but I’ll drive you where you can get a good look at it.”

In a few minutes, he made a turn, and whipped up his horse to a better speed, and before Mrs. Drane and her daughter could comprehend the state of affairs, they were rolling over a not very well kept private road, and approaching the front of a house.

“Where are you going, driver?” exclaimed Mrs. Drane, leaning forward in astonishment.

Andy turned his beaming countenance upon her, and flourished his whip.

“Oh, I’m just goin’ to drive round the side of the house,” he said; “at the back there’s a little knoll where we can stop, and you can see the whole of the barn with the three ways of gittin’ into it, one for each story.”  At that moment they rolled past the front piazza on which were Miriam and Ralph, gazing at them in surprise.  The latter had risen when he had heard the approaching carriage, supposing they were to have visitors.  But as the vehicle passed the door he looked at his sister in amazement.

“It can’t be,” said he, “that those people have come to visit Mike?”

“Or Molly Tooney?” said Miriam.

As for Mrs. Drane and Cicely, they were shocked.  They had never been in the habit of driving into private grounds for the sake of seeing what might be there to see, and Mrs. Drane sharply ordered the driver to stop.

“What do you mean,” said she, “by bringing us in here?”

“Oh, that’s nuthin’,” said Andy, with a genial grin; “they won’t mind your comin’ in to look at the barn.  I’ve druv lots of people in here to look at that barn, though, to be sure, not since these young people has been livin’ here, but they won’t mind it an eighth of an inch.”

“I shall get out and apologize,” said Mrs. Drane, “for this shameful intrusion, and then you must drive us out of the grounds immediately.  We do not wish to stop to look at anything,” and with this she stepped from the little phaeton and walked back to the piazza.