Jope caught his breath sharply.
"Lor' lumme!" he exclaimed. "It is a seat, as the gel said!"
Mr. Adams, following close with the wheelbarrow, set it down, stared,
and said:
"Then she's a liar. It's a house."
"It's twice the size of a three-decker, anyway," said his friend, and
together they stood and contemplated the building.
It was a handsome pile of old brickwork, set in a foundation of rock
almost overhanging the river--on which, however, it turned its back;
in design, an oblong of two storeys, with a square tower at each of
the four corners, and the towers connected by a parapet of freestone.
The windows along the front were regular, and those on the
ground-floor less handsome than those of the upper floor, where
(it appeared) were the staterooms. For--strangest feature of all--
the main entrance was in this upper storey, with a dozen broad steps
leading down to the unkempt carriage-way and a lawn, across which a
magnificent turkey oak threw dark masses of shadow.
But the house was a picture of decay. Unpainted shutters blocked the
windows; tall grasses sprouted in the crevices of the entrance steps
and parapet; dislodged slates littered the drive; smears of old rains
ran down the main roof and from a lantern of which the louvers were
all in ruin, some hanging by a nail, others blown on edge by
long-past gales.
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