And what are you doing now?"
"Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning to
believe that its existence is wholly mythical," Val replied.
"It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which you're
heading. But suppose you come and visit me instead. Really, as part
landlords, you should be looking into the condition of your rentable
property."
She turned briskly to the left down the lane on which were located the
slave cabins and guided the Ralestones along a brick-paved path into a
clearing where stood a small house of typical plantation style. The
lower story was of stone with steep steps leading to a balcony which ran
completely around the second floor of the house.
As they reached the balcony she pulled off her hat and threw it in the
general direction of a cane settee. Without that wreck of a hat, with
the curls of her long bob flowing free, she looked years younger.
"Make yourselves thoroughly at home. After all, this is your house, you
know."
"But we didn't," protested Ricky. "Mr. LeFleur didn't tell us a thing
about you."
"Perhaps he didn't know." Charity Biglow was pinning back her curls. "I
rented from Harrison."
"Like the bathroom," Val murmured and looked up to find them staring at
him. "Oh, I just meant that you were another improvement that he had
installed," he stammered. Miss Biglow nodded in a satisfied sort of way.
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