diately began to remove the trunks into
the main hallway. This overgrown, husky lad evidently did not share
his employer's disapproval of the guests, for he gazed in open-eyed
wonder at the sisters, and then, with increasing awe, his glance
strayed to the young girl. To his juvenile imagination an actress
appeared in the glamour of a veritable goddess. But she had obviously
that tender consideration for others which belongs to humanity, for
she turned to the old man with an affectionate smile, removing from
his shoulders the wet Petersham overcoat, and, placing it on a chair,
regarded him with a look of filial anxiety. Yet their appearance
belied the assumption of such relationship; he was hearty, florid and
sturdy, of English type, while she seemed a daughter of the South, a
figure more fitting for groves of orange and cypress, than for this
rugged northern wilderness.
The emotion of the stable boy as he gazed at her, and the forbidding
mood of the landlord were broken in upon by the tiny old lady, who, in
a large voice, remarked:
"A haven at last! Are you the landlord?"
"Yes, ma'am," testily replied that person.
"I am pleased to meet you, sir," exclaimed the melancholy individual,
as he extended a hand so cold and clammy that shivers ran up and down
the back of the host when he took it gingerly. "We are having fine
tragedy weather, sir!"
"A fire at once, landlord!" commanded the would-be beau.
"Refreshments will be in order!" exclaimed she of the trim ankles.
"And show me the best room in the house," remarked her sister.
Mine host, bewildered by this shower of requests, stared from one to
the other in helpless confusion, but finally collected his wits
sufficiently to usher the company into the tap-room with:
"Here you'll find a fire, but as for the best room, this
gentleman"--indicating the reticent guest--"already occupies it."
The young man at the fire, thus forced prominently into notice, arose
slowly.
"You are mistaken, landlord," he said curtly, hardly glancing at the
players. "I no longer occupy it since these ladies have come."
"Your complaisance does credit to your good nature, sir," exclaimed
the old man. "But we can not take advantage of it."
"It is too good of you," remarked the elder sister with a glance
replete with more gratitude than the occasion demanded. "Really,
though, we could not think of it."
"Thank you; thank you," joined in the wiry old lady, bobbing up and
down
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