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garments of iron-grey; besides these glories, he shone in the lustre of
a new pair of boots and an extremely stiff and shiny hat, which on
being struck anywhere with the knuckles, sounded like a drum. And
in this attire, rather wondering that he attracted so little attention,
and attributing the circumstance to the insensibility of those who got
up early, he made his way towards Abel Cottage.
Without encountering any more remarkable adventure on the road,
than meeting a lad in a brimless hat, the exact counterpart of his old
one, on whom he bestowed half the sixpence he possessed, Kit arrived
in course of time at the carrier's house, where, to the lasting honour of
human nature, he found the box in safety. Receiving from the wife of
this immaculate man, a direction to Mr Garland's, he took the box
upon his shoulder and repaired thither directly.
To be sure, it was a beautiful little cottage with a thatched roof and
little spires at the gable-ends, and pieces of stained glass in some of
the windows, almost as large as pocket-books. On one side of the
house was a little stable, just the size for the pony, with a little room
over it, just the size for Kit. White curtains were fluttering, and birds
in cages that looked as bright as if they were made of gold, were
singing at the windows; plants were arranged on either side of the
path, and clustered about the door; and the garden was bright with
flowers in full bloom, which shed a sweet odour all round, and had a
charming and elegant appearance. Everything within the house and
without, seemed to be the perfection of neatness and order. In the
garden there was not a weed to be seen, and to judge from some
dapper gardening-tools, a basket, and a pair of gloves which were
lying in one of the walks, old Mr Garland had been at work in it that
very morning.
Kit looked about him, and admired, and looked again, and this a great
many times before he could make up his mind to turn his head
another way and ring the bell. There was abundance of time to look
about him again though, when he had rung it, for nobody came, so
after ringing it twice or thrice he sat down upon his box, and waited.
He rang the bell a great many times, and yet nobody came. But at
last, as he was sitting upon the box thinking about giants' castles,
and princesses tied up to pegs by the hair of their heads, and dragons
bursting out from behind gates, and other incidents of the like nature,
common in story-books to youths of low degree on their first visit to
strange houses, the door was gently opened, and a little servant-girl,
very tidy, modest, and demure, but very pretty too, appeared. 'I
suppose you're Christopher,sir,' said the servant-girl.
Kit got off the box, and said yes, he was.
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