Sunnybank

"Berry soon, Miss, an' we're thar. We turns the corner yonder, we
drives 'cross the plain, down a hill, up anoder, an' then we's
mighty nigh a mile from the spot."

Such was the answer made by Tom, the Bernard coachman to Edith's
repeated inquiries, "Are we almost there."

For three successive days the Bernard carriage had been to
Tallahassee in quest of the expected guest, whose coming was
watched for so eagerly at Sunnybank, and who, as the bright
October afternoon was drawing to its close, looked eagerly out at
a huge old house which stood not very far distant with the setting
sun shining on the roof and illuminating all the upper windows.

A nearer approach showed it to be a large, square, wooden building,
divided in the centre by a wide, airy hall, and surrounded on
three sides by a verandah, the whole bearing a more modern look
than most of the country houses in Florida, for Mr. Bernard had
possessed considerable taste, and during his life had aimed at
fitting up his residence somewhat after the northern fashion. To
Edith there was something familiar about that old building, with
its handsome grounds, and she said aloud, "I've surely dreamed of Sunnybank."

"Berry likely, Miss," answered Tom, thinking the remark addressed
to him, inasmuch as Edith's head protruded from the window.
"Dreams is mighty onsartin. Git 'long, you Bill, none o'yer lazy
carlicues, case don't yer mind thar's Mars'r Arthur on the
v'randy, squinting to see if I's fotched 'em," and removing his
old straw hat, Tom swung it three times around his head, that
being the signal he was to give if Edith were in the carriage.