My horse had cast a shoe, and we stopped at Faxton's shop to have him shod.

The town well is in the middle of an open space called by the villagers "The Open," around which are clustered the half-dozen houses and shops that constitute the village.
The girls were mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the farrier's, waiting for my horse.

Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy.

Our backs were turned toward the well.

Suddenly a light came into Jennie's face, and she plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.
"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a whisper.
Dorothy looked toward the well.