But my ill-timed and absurd sense of being in a summer paradise did not last long, for I heard in a few minutes the loud clatter of wheels coming down the lane from the opposite direction to that which had been taken by the hurrying pair. Of course, I could not see, for I had fallen with my face toward the house, and I did not like to try to turn around--it inconvenienced the splinters so. The sound came nearer and nearer, and at last I managed to move my head enough to see a country horse and wagon with two men. Then I leaned my face on my folded arms, and I hoped and prayed that they might drive past. But, to my horror, to my intense mortification, they turned and came up the driveway and underneath the shed of the Hartshorn house. A great dog bounded around and stared at me. I heard around the corner the murmuring sounds of suppressed laughter and eager questioning, of which one sentence only came distinctly to my ears: “Queer sort of hens you keep, Hartshorn;” and then the two men came round the house. I hardly know what I said; I think it was this: “If you are Mr. Hartshorn, I must beg your pardon for my sudden, impertinent, and most unexpected intrusion on the privacy of your--hen-house” (here we all three burst out laughing), “and I must ask if you will please get your axe and chop up your own hen-house in order to get me out.” Never speak to me again of Yankee inquisitiveness! Without asking one question, Hartshorn ran into the house, brought out his hidden axe, and while the boards were firmly held by the other man (who, alas! was young and well-dressed, and who proved to be the city purchaser of the farm), Abiel carefully chopped and split. I heroically bore this undignified ordeal in silence, until at last I was released. “Come into the house,” said Abiel, with wonderful hospitality to so impertinent an intruder; “ye must be a leetle tired of standin’; come in and sit down. Ye ain’t hurt much, air ye?” “Oh, no,” I answered, “only some deep scratches; but let me explain to you”--and I did explain with much self-abasement how I came to be fixed in my absurd position. In the meantime the distracted pair had obtained the axe and were on their way back to the scene of disaster. As soon as they were within a full view of the house my companion china-hunter burst forth: “Why, she is gone! Where can she be? Do you suppose she has fainted and sunk into the hen-house? No, I can see, it is empty; she has got out of it somehow.” Then she jumped out of the cart, ran up the path and through the open door, and found me sitting calmly talking with the well-dressed young man. From the kitchen we soon heard sounds of violent and vituperative altercation. “Abiel Hartshorn, yer the biggest fool I ever see. What did ye lock yer house up in the daytime fur?” “To keep out jest such pryin’ haddocks as you and them be.” “Ye ain’t got nothin’ in it, anyway.” “Then what did you and her want to peek in fur?”