"Got back, have you?"

This was Sam, the "bound-boy,"--the son of a tenant on the old Carson
place, who, in consideration of three months' schooling every winter,
and a "freedom suit" at the age of seventeen, if he desired then to
learn a trade, was duly made over by his father to Gilbert Potter. His
position was something between that of a poor relation and a servant. He
was one of the family, eating at the same table, sleeping, indeed, (for
economy of house-work,) in the same bed with his master, and privileged
to feel his full share of interest in domestic matters; but on the other
hand bound to obedience and rigid service.

"Feed's in the trough," said he, taking hold of the bridle. "I'll fix
him. Better go into th' house. Tea's wanted."

Feeling as sure that all the necessary evening's work was done as if he
had performed it with his own hands, Gilbert silently followed the boy's
familiar advice.

The house, built like most other old farm-houses in that part of the
county, of hornblende stone, stood near the bottom of a rounded knoll,
overhanging the deep, winding valley. It was two stories in height, the
gable looking towards the road, and showing, just under the broad double
chimney, a limestone slab, upon which were rudely carved the initials of
the builder and his wife, and the date "1727." A low portico, overgrown
with woodbine and trumpet-flower, ran along the front. In the narrow
flower-bed, under it, the crocuses and daffodils were beginning to
thrust up their blunt, green points. A walk of flag-stones separated
them from the vegetable garden, which was bounded at the bottom by a
mill-race, carrying half the water of the creek to the saw and grist