He's in
the lower barn-floor."
The barn stood lower than the level of the chip-yard, from
which a little bridge led to the great doorway of the second
floor. Passing down the range of outhouses, Ellen came to the
little door her aunt had spoken of. "But what in the world
should I do if there should be cows inside there?" said she to
herself. She peeped in — the cow-house was perfectly empty;
and cautiously, and with many a fearful glance to the right
and left, lest some terrible horned animal should present
itself, Ellen made her way across the cow-house, and through
the barn-yard, littered thick with straw wet and dry, to the
lower barn-floor. The door of this stood wide open. Ellen
looked with wonder and pleasure when she got in. It was an
immense room — the sides showed nothing but hay up to the
ceiling, except here and there an enormous upright post; the
floor was perfectly clean, only a few locks of hay and grains
of wheat scattered upon it; and a pleasant sweet smell was
there, Ellen could not tell of what. But no Mr. Van Brunt. She
looked about for him, she dragged her disagreeable slippers
back and forth over the floor, in vain.
"Hilloa! what's wanting?" at length cried a rough voice she
remembered very well. But where was the speaker? On every
side, to every corner, her eyes turned without finding him.
She looked up at last. There was the round face of Mr.
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