It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. I know you. \"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile.
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