Another came from France. These three planned and built this
house, and did it pretty well, too.
"This house-builder, Walsingham Hynds, made his house a sort of
lodge for the brethren, just as in later times his grandsons
sheltered the brethren of those societies that fathered the American
Revolution. Gatchell tells me there is a legend of the master of
Hynds House entertaining British officers and at the same time
hiding the forfeited rebels they were hunting. I'd like to know,"
The Author added, reflectively, "where he hid them."
"An old house like this has dozens of places where one could be
hidden without much danger of detection," remarked Mr. Johnson.
"I'm pretty sure of that," agreed The Author, emphatically.
"You should be, since you did a neat little bit of hiding on your
own account," Mr. Johnson reminded him.
The Author was nettled. He had never found the paper lost out of the
closet in his own room, though he had never given up a tentative
search for it.
"Well, it's confoundedly odd I never did such a thing before," he
grumbled.
"What is odd is that I myself was waked out of my sleep that night
by the most oppressive sense of misery and hopelessness I have ever
experienced," Mr.
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