Beadle's Dime Novels No. 35: East and West — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE TOW-HEADED GROUP. . 17 I don’t know which is the clue to Willard’s Mill. Are you any wiser, Rosy ?—because I don’t fancy getting lost just to- day, old pony, if Harry Stewart is a fop and a fool.” With this last sentence, the gay, girlish voice, that had seemed to sport on the elastic air as if speaking were 4 pleas- ure and not an everyday necessity, sank down to a piteous tremble, very much as if its owner meant to cry. . But the weakness was only momentary, and with one brave effort Constance Lord was “herself again,” as she inwardly “Now, Rosy, they told us up at Kanesville to take the right-hand road aj/ the time ; but I have no faith in it; for, you see, don’t you, Rosy, that the right-hand road turns off too much toward the river, while according -to description, Willard’s Mill is in the middle of the prairie. So here’s for conviction against advice—we'll try the left-hand road, which looks much more as if it went somewhere. There's a house, too, a mile or more ahead, so we.can not get quite lost.” Giving the pony a second touch of the whip, our gay tray- eler cantered on until the house descried was reached—a story- and-a-half log-cabin, rather newer and neater than most of such houses. _ As she dashed up to the door she scattered a group of tow-headed children, but they quickly disposed of themselves’ so as to get a good view of their visitor, and Waited in silence to learn her errand. A young-looking woman, with sunburnt, light hair and complexion, red cheeks, and pretty features, appeared in the doofway in answer to an inquiry from Constance for the mother of the children. “Can you tell me the road to Willard’s Mill?’ asked our traveler, in a self-possessed tone. “Waal, yer not fur away from it now,” answered the woman, good-naturedly ; “but ef yer'd kept ter the right a leetle furder back yer’d saved yerself a good bit o’ ridin’.” “You don’t mean to say I must return to the place where the road forks, and take the other one?” cried Constance, “No, ef yer don’t want ter. There’s a nearder way nor that ; but it’s kind o’ low an’ wet, and the bridge across the sloo ain’t very safe neither; but I reckon itll bear yer pony.” atid connicloooks.com