Jury-Law books

A teetering stage, with a rack behind for light baggage, drawn by a pair
of lean horses, waited beside the station. The stage had been freshened
for the season with a thin coat of yellow paint. The word "_Cardhaven_"
was painted in bright blue letters on the doors of this ancient coach.
"No, ma'am! I can't possibly take your trunks," the driver said,
politely explanatory. "Ye see, miss, I carry the mail this trip an' the
parcel-post traffic is right heavy, as ye might say. . . . Belay that,
Jerry!" he observed to the nigh horse that was stamping because of the
pest of flies. "We'll cast off in a minute and get under way. . . . No,
miss, I can't take 'em; but Perry Baker'll likely go over to the Haven
to-night and he'll fetch 'em for ye. I got all the cargo I can load."
Soon the horses shacked out of town. The sandy road wandered through the
pine woods where the hot June sunshine extracted the scent of balsam
until its strength was almost overpowering. Louise, alone in the
interior of the old coach, found herself pitching and tossing about as
though in a heavy sea.


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