On this were drawn up the two 'buses from the rival hotels--the "New Brick Hotel," built just after the Civil War, and the Eagle House. Their respective drivers called languidly for customers as the passengers disembarked from the train. Most of these were traveling men, or townspeople. It was only mid-forenoon and Lyddy did not wish to spend either time or money at the local hostelries, so she shook her head firmly at the 'bus drivers. "We want to get settled by night at Hillcrest--if we can," she told 'Phemie. "Let's see if your baggage and freight are here, first of all." She waited until the station agent was at leisure and learned that all their goods--a small, one-horse load--had arrived. "You two girls goin' up to the old Polly Phelps house?" ejaculated the agent, who was a "native son" and knew all about the "old doctor," as Dr. Apollo Phelps had been known throughout two counties and on both sides of the mountain ridge. "Why, it ain't fit for a stray cat to live in, I don't believe--that house ain't," he added. "More'n twenty year since the old doctor died, and it's been shut up ever since. "What! you his grandchildren? Sho! Mis' Bray--I remember. She was the old doctor's daughter by his secon' wife. Ya-as. "Well, if I was you, I'd go to Pritchett's house to stop first. Can't be that the old house is fit to live in, an' Pritchett is your nighest neighbor." "Thank you," Lyddy said, quietly. "And can you tell me whom we could get to transport our goods--and ourselves--to the top of the ridge?" "Huh? Why! I seen Pritchett's long-laiged boy in town jest now--Lucas Pritchett. He ain't got away yet," responded the station agent. "I ventur' to say you'll find him up Market Street a piece--at Birch's store, or the post-office. This train brung in the mail. "If he's goin' up light he oughter be willin' to help you out cheap. It's a six-mile tug, you know; you wouldn't wanter walk it." He pointed up the mountainside. Far, far toward the summit of the ridge, nestling in a background of brown and green, was a splash of vivid white. "That's Pritchett's," vouchsafed the station agent. "If Dr. Polly Phelps' house had a coat of whitewash you could see it, too--jest to the right and above Pritchett's. Highest house on the ridge, it is, and a mighty purty site, to my notion." CHAPTER V LUCAS PRITCHETT The Bray girls walked up the village street, which opened directly out of the square. It might have been a quarter of a mile in length, the red brick courthouse facing them at the far end, flanked by the two hotels. When "court sat" Bridleburg was a livelier town than at present. On either hand were alternately rows of one, or two-story "blocks" of stores and offices, or roomy old homesteads set in the midst of their own wide, terraced lawns.