aps of old periodicals, boxes of trinkets, wooden chests of
mystery--a New England garret collection such as we had read of, but
never seen, the accumulation of a century and a half of time and change.
We looked at it greedily, for we had long ago acquired a hunger for such
drift as that, left by the human tide. I said in a dead, hopeless tone:

"I suppose it will all be taken away when the place is sold."

William C. Westbury sighed. "Oh yes, we'll clear out whatever you don't
care for," he said, gloomily, "but it all goes with the house, if
anybody wants it."

I gasped. "The--the spinning-wheels and the--the chairs?"

"Everything--just as it is. We've got an attic full of such truck down
the hill now--from _my_ family. I've hauled around about all that old
stuff I ever want to."

Our dream began to acquire extensive additions. We saw ourselves on
rainy days pulling over that treasure-house, making priceless
discoveries. Reluctantly we descended to the door-yard, taking another
glance at the rooms as we went down. We whispered to each other that the
place certainly had great possibilities, but it was mainly the attic we
were thinking of.

We went outside. Somehow the door-yard seemed a good deal brighter, and
we agreed that an hour or two's brisk exercise with a scythe would work
wonders. We walked down to the brook, and Mr. Westbury pulled back the
willows from the swift water, and something darted away--trout, he
said, and if he had declared them to weigh a pound apiece we should have
accepted his appraisal, for we were still under the spell of that magic
collection up there under the roof and his statement that everything
went with the house.

The price for the thirty-one acres--"more or less," as the New England
deeds phrase it, for there are no exact boundaries or measurements among
those hoary hills--with the house, which for the moment seemed to us
mainly composed of attic and contents, though we still remembered the
long, low room and spacious fireplaces; a barn--I was near forgetting
the barn, though it was larger than the house, and as old and solid; the
trout-brook; the woods; the meadow; the orchard--all complete was (ah,
me! I fear those days are gone!) a thousand dollars, and I cannot to
this day understand how we ever got away without closing the trade. I
suppose we wanted to talk about it awhile, and bargain, for the years
had brought us more prudence than money. In the end we agreed on nine
hun