here it stood, slick and cold,
unhospitable as ever a house was. A house has its physiognomy as well
as a man, for him who can read it; and this one, notwithstanding its new
and shining paint, was sullen, morose, and nearly vicious and spiteful.
I turned away. I should not have cared to work for its owner.

Peter was trotting along. I do not know why on this first trip he never
showed the one of his two most prominent traits--his laziness. As I
found out later on, so long as I drove him single (he changed entirely
in this respect when he had a mate), he would have preferred to be
hitched behind, with me between the shafts pulling buggy and him. That
was his weakness, but in it there also lay his strength. As soon as I
started to dream or to be absorbed in the things around, he was sure
to fall into the slowest of walks. When then he heard the swish of
the whip, he would start with the worst of consciences, gallop away at
breakneck speed, and slow down only when he was sure the whip was safe
in its socket. When we met a team and pulled out on the side of the
road, he would take it for granted that I desired to make conversation.
He stopped instantly, drew one hindleg up, stood on three legs, and
drooped his head as if he had come from the ends of the world. Oh yes,
he knew how to spare himself. But on the other hand, when it came to a
tight place, where only an extraordinary effort would do, I had never
driven a horse on which I could more confidently rely. What any horse
could do, he did.

About two miles beyond I came again to a cluster of buildings, close to
the corner of the crossroads, sheltered, homelike, inviting in a large
natural bluff of tall, dark-green poplars. Those first two houses had
had an aristocratic aloofness--I should not have liked to turn in
there for shelter or for help. But this was prosperous, open-handed,
well-to-do middle class; not that conspicuous "moneyedness" that we so
often find in our new west when people have made their success; but the
solid, friendly, everyday liberality that for generations has not had to
pinch itself and therefore has mellowed down to taking the necessities
and a certain amount of give and take for granted. I was glad when on
closer approach I noticed a school embedded in the shady green of the
corner. I thought with pleasure of children being so close to people
with whom I should freely have exchanged a friendly greeting and
considered it a privilege. In my menta