In five minutes the "express" got under way. The road wound
partly through the woods. In some places the boughs, bending over
from opposite sides, nearly met. At present the branches were
nearly destitute of leaves, and the landscape looked bleak. But
in the summer nothing could be more charming.
From his seat, beside Ajax, Henry Morton regarded attentively the
prominent features of the landscape. His survey was interrupted
by a question from the driver.
"Are you calc'latin' to make a long stay in our village?"
inquired Ajax, with Yankee freedom.
"I am not quite certain. It is possible that I may."
"There isn't much goin' on in winter."
"No, I suppose not."
After a few minutes' pause, he inquired, "Can you tell me if
there is a gentleman living in the village named Haynes?"
"I expect you mean Squire Haynes," said Ajax.
"Very probably he goes by that name. He was formerly a lawyer."
"Yes, that's the man. Do you know him?"
"I have heard of him," said the young man, non-committally.
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