Botfield Hall was a large, half-timbered farmhouse, with a gabled roof,
part of which was made of thatch and the rest of tiles. It stood quite
alone, at a little distance from the works, on the other side of them to
that where the village was built. The window-casements were framed of
stone; and the outer doors were of thick, solid oak, studded with
large-headed iron nails. The iron ring that served as a rapper on the
back door fell with a loud clang from Stephen's fingers upon the nails,
and startled him with its din, so that he could hardly speak to the
servant who answered his noisy summons. They crossed a kitchen, into
which many doors opened, to a kind of parlour beyond, fitted up with
furniture that looked wonderfully handsome and grand in Stephen's eyes,
and where the master was sitting by a comfortable fire. The impatient
servant pushed him within the door, and closed it behind her, leaving him
standing upon a mat, and shyly stroking his cap round and round, while
the master sat still, and gazed at him steadily with an assumed air of
amazement, though inwardly he was more afraid of the boy than Stephen was
of him.
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