doubt there's a long line of them yet, threaded in and out among the
rest of humanity, all with faces set by fate toward our back door.
There's always a coming woman, in that direction at least."

"I would as lief come across the staying one," said Mrs. Holabird,
with meekness.

It cooled down our enthusiasm. Stephen, especially, was very much
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.