The children stumbled a little on the rough road, and once Phyllis absently fell into a puddle, and was picked up damp and unhappy.

There were no gas-lamps on the road, and the road was uphill.

The cart went at a foot's pace, and they followed the gritty crunch of its wheels.

As their eyes got used to the darkness, they could see the mound of boxes swaying dimly in front of them.
A long gate had to be opened for the cart to pass through, and after that the road seemed to go across fields--and now it went down hill.
Presently a great dark lumpish thing showed over to the right.
"There's the house," said Mother.

"I wonder why she's shut the shutters." "Who's SHE ?" asked Roberta.
"The woman I engaged to clean the place, and put the furniture straight and get supper." There was a low wall, and trees inside.
"That's the garden," said Mother.
"It looks more like a dripping-pan full of black cabbages," said Peter.
The cart went on along by the garden wall, and round to the back of the house, and here it clattered into a cobble-stoned yard and stopped at the back door.
There was no light in any of the windows.
Everyone hammered at the door, but no one came.
The man who drove the cart said he expected Mrs.Viney had gone home.
"You see your train was that late," said he.
"But she's got the key," said Mother.