uch
quenched.

The next one was not only somewhere, but everywhere, it seemed, and
nowhere. "Everything by turns and nothing long," Barbara wrote up over
the kitchen chimney with the baker's chalk. We had five girls between
that time and our moving to Westover, and we had to move without a
girl at last; only getting a woman in to do days' work. But I have not
come to the family-moving yet.

The house-moving was the pretty part. Every pleasant afternoon, while
the building was upon the rollers, we walked over, and went up into
all the rooms, and looked out of every window, noting what new
pictures they gave as the position changed from day to day; how now
this tree and now that shaded them: how we gradually came to see by
the end of the Haddens' barn, and at last across it,--for the slope,
though gradual, was long,--and how the sunset came in more and more,
as we squared toward the west; and there was always a thrill of
excitement when we felt under us, as we did again and again, the
onward momentary surge of the timbers, as the workmen brought all
rightly to bear, and the great team of oxen started up. Stephen called
these earthquakes.

We found places, day by day, where it would be nice to stop. It was
such a funny thing to travel along in a house that might stop
anywhere, and thenceforward belong. Only, in fact, it couldn't;
because, like some other things that seem a matter of choice, it was
all pre-ordained; and there was a solid stone foundation waiting over
on the west side, where grandfather meant it to be.

We got little new peeps at the southerly hills, in the fresh breaks
between trees and buildings that we went by. As we reached the broad,
open crown, we saw away down beyond where it was still and woodsy; and
the nice farm-fields of Grandfather Holabird's place looked sunny and
pleasant and real countrified.

It was not a steep eminence on either side; if it had been the great
house could not have been carried over as it was. It was a grand
generous swell of land, lifting up with a slow serenity into pure airs
and splendid vision. We did not know, exactly, where the highest
point had been; but as we came on toward the little walled-in
excavation which seemed such a small mark to aim at, and one which we
might so easily fail to hit after all, we saw how behind us rose the
green bosom of the field against the sky, and how, day by day, we got
less of the great town within our view as we settled down upon