"I 've never happened to read those partic'lar books; but land! I 've read a sight in my time! Nowadays I 'm so drove I get along with the Almanac, the Weekly Argus, and the Maine State Agriculturist.—There's the river again; this is the last long hill, and when we get to the top of it we'll see the chimbleys of Riverboro in the distance. 'T ain't fur. I live 'bout half a mile beyond the brick house myself."
Rebecca's hand stirred nervously in her lap and she moved in her seat. "I did n't think I was going to be afraid," she said almost under her breath; "but I guess I am, just a little mite—when you say it 's coming so near."
"Would you go back?" asked Mr. Cobb curiously.
She flashed him an intrepid look and then said proudly, "I 'd never go back—I might be frightened, but I 'd be ashamed to run. Going to aunt Mirandy's is like going down cellar in the dark. There might be ogres and giants under the stairs,—but, as I tell Hannah, there might be elves and fairies and enchanted frogs!—Is there a main street to the village, like that in Wareham?"
"I s'pose you might call it a main street, an' your aunt Sawyer lives on it, but there ain't no stores nor mills, an' it 's an awful one-horse village! You have to go 'cross the river an' get on to our side if you want to see anything goin' on."
