along the little path which ran around the green,
and knocked upon the open door of Holly Sprig Inn.

In a few moments a boy came into the hall. He was not dressed like an
ordinary hotel attendant, but his appearance was decent, and he might
have been a sub-clerk or a head hall-boy.

"Can I obtain lodging here for the night?" I asked.

The boy looked at me from head to foot, and an expression such as
might be produced by too much lemon juice came upon his face.

"No," said he; "we don't take cyclers."

This reception was something novel to me, who had cycled over
thousands of miles, and I was not at all inclined to accept it at the
hands of the boy. I stepped into the hall. "Can I see the master of
this house?" said I.

"There ain't none," he answered, gruffly.

"Well, then, I want to see whoever is in charge."

He looked as if he were about to say that he was in charge, but he had
no opportunity for such impertinence. A female figure came into the
hall and advanced towards me. She stopped in an attitude of
interrogation.

"I was just inquiring," I said, with a bow--for I saw that the
new-comer was not a servant--"if I could be accommodated here for the
night, but the boy informed me that cyclers are not received here."

"What!" she exclaimed, and turned as if she would speak to the boy,
but he had vanished. "That is a mistake, sir," she said to me. "Very
few wheelmen do stop here, as they prefer a hotel farther on, but we
are glad to entertain them when they come."

It was not very light in the hall in which we stood, but I could see
that this lady was young, that she was of medium size, and
good-looking.

"Will you walk in, sir, and register?" she said. "I will have your
wheel taken around to the back."

I followed her into a large apartment to the right of the
hall--evidently a room of general assembly. Near the window was a desk
with a great book on it. As I stood before this desk and she handed me
a pen, her face was in the full light of the window, and glancing at
it, the thought struck me that I now knew why Miss Putney did not wish
me to stop at the Holly Sprig Inn. I almost laughed as I turned away
my head to write my name. I was amused, and at the same time I could
not help feeling highly complimented. It cannot but be grateful to the
feelings of a young man to find that a very handsome woman objects to
his making the acquaintance of an extremely pretty one.

When I laid down the pen she ste