CHAPTER XI

DOINGS AT AN INN

What every traveller sighs to find, was palatably furnished by the Green

Dragon of Fallowfield--a famous inn, and a constellation for wandering

coachmen. There pleasant smiles seasoned plenty, and the bill was gilded

in a manner unknown to our days. Whoso drank of the ale of the Green

Dragon kept in his memory a place apart for it. The secret, that to give

a warm welcome is the breath of life to an inn, was one the Green Dragon

boasted, even then, not to share with many Red Lions, or Cocks of the

Morning, or Kings' Heads, or other fabulous monsters; and as if to show

that when you are in the right track you are sure to be seconded, there

was a friend of the Green Dragon, who, on a particular night of the year,

caused its renown to enlarge to the dimensions of a miracle. But that,

for the moment, is my secret.

Evan and Jack were met in the passage by a chambermaid. Before either of

them could speak, she had turned and fled, with the words:

'More coming!' which, with the addition of 'My goodness me!' were echoed

by the hostess in her recess. Hurried directions seemed to be consequent,

and then the hostess sallied out, and said, with a curtsey:

'Please to step in, gentlemen. This is the room, tonight.'

Evan lifted his hat; and bowing, requested to know whether they could

have a supper and beds.

'Beds, Sir!' cried the hostess. 'What am I to do for beds! Yes, beds

indeed you may have, but bed-rooms--if you ask for them, it really is

more than I can supply you with. I have given up my own. I sleep with my

maid Jane to-night.'

'Anything will do for us, madam,' replied Evan, renewing his foreign

courtesy. 'But there is a poor young woman outside.'

'Another!' The hostess instantly smiled down her inhospitable outcry.

'She,' said Evan, 'must have a room to herself. She is ill.'

'Must is must, sir,' returned the gracious hostess. 'But I really haven't

the means.'

'You have bed-rooms, madam?'

'Every one of them engaged, sir.'

'By ladies, madam?'

'Lord forbid, Sir!' she exclaimed with the honest energy of a woman who

knew her sex.

Evan bade Jack go and assist the waggoner to bring in the girl. Jack, who

had been all the time pulling at his wristbands, and settling his

coat-collar by the dim reflection of a window of the bar, departed,

after, on his own authority, assuring the hostess that fever was not the

young woman's malady, as she protested against admitting fever into her

house, seeing that she had to consider her guests.

'We're open to all the world to-night, except fever,' said the hostess.

'Yes,' she rejoined to Evan's order that the waggoner and his mate should

be supplied with ale, 'they shall have as much as they can drink,' which

is not a speech usual at inns, when one man gives an order for others,

but Evan passed it by, and politely begged to be shown in to one of the

gentlemen who had engaged bedrooms.

'Oh! if you can persuade any of them, sir, I'm sure I've nothing to say,'

observed the hostess. 'Pray, don't ask me to stand by and back it, that's

all.'

Had Evan been familiar with the Green Dragon, he would have noticed that

the landlady, its presiding genius, was stiffer than usual; the rosy

smile was more constrained, as if a great host had to be embraced, and

were trying it to the utmost stretch. There was, however, no asperity

about her, and when she had led him to the door he was to enter to prefer

his suit, and she had asked whether the young woman was quite common, and

he had replied that he had picked her up on the road, and that she was

certainly poor, the hostess said:

'I 'm sure you're a very good gentleman, sir, and if I could spare your

asking at all, I would.'

With that she went back to encounter Mr. Raikes and his charge, and prime

the waggoner and his mate.

A noise of laughter and talk was stilled gradually, as Evan made his bow

into a spacious room, wherein, as the tops of pines are seen swimming on

the morning mist, about a couple of dozen guests of divers conditions sat

partially revealed through wavy clouds of tobacco-smoke. By their

postures, which Evan's appearance by no means disconcerted, you read in a

glance men who had been at ease for so many hours that they had no

troubles in the world save the two ultimate perplexities of the British

Sybarite, whose bed of roses is harassed by the pair of problems: first,

what to do with his legs; secondly, how to imbibe liquor with the

slightest possible derangement of those members subordinate to his upper

structure. Of old the Sybarite complained. Not so our self-helpful

islanders. Since they could not, now that work was done and jollity the

game, take off their legs, they got away from them as far as they might,

in fashions original or imitative: some by thrusting them out at full

length; some by cramping them under their chairs: while some, taking

refuge in a mental effort, forgot them, a process to be recommended if it

did not involve occasional pangs of consciousness to the legs of their

neighbours. We see in our cousins West of the great water, who are said

to exaggerate our peculiarities, beings labouring under the same

difficulty, and intent on its solution. As to the second problem: that of

drinking without discomposure to the subservient limbs: the company

present worked out this republican principle ingeniously, but in a manner

beneath the attention of the Muse. Let Clio record that mugs and glasses,

tobacco and pipes, were strewn upon the table. But if the guests had

arrived at that stage when to reach the arm, or arrange the person, for a

sip of good stuff, causes moral debates, and presents to the mind

impediments equal to what would be raised in active men by the prospect

of a great excursion, it is not to be wondered at that the presence of a

stranger produced no immediate commotion. Two or three heads were half

turned; such as faced him imperceptibly lifted their eyelids.

'Good evening, sir,' said one who sat as chairman, with a decisive nod.

'Good night, ain't it?' a jolly-looking old fellow queried of the

speaker, in an under-voice.

'Gad, you don't expect me to be wishing the gentleman good-bye, do you?'

retorted the former.

'Ha! ha! No, to be sure,' answered the old boy; and the remark was

variously uttered, that 'Good night,' by a caprice of our language, did

sound like it.

'Good evening's "How d' ye do?"--"How are ye?" Good night's "Be off, and

be blowed to you,"' observed an interpreter with a positive mind; and

another, whose intelligence was not so clear, but whose perceptions had

seized the point, exclaimed: 'I never says it when I hails a chap; but,

dash my buttons, if I mightn't 'a done, one day or another! Queer!'

The chairman, warmed by his joke, added, with a sharp wink: 'Ay; it would

be queer, if you hailed "Good night" in the middle of the day!' and this

among a company soaked in ripe ale, could not fail to run the electric

circle, and persuaded several to change their positions; in the rumble of

which, Evan's reply, if he had made any, was lost. Few, however, were

there who could think of him, and ponder on that glimpse of fun, at the

same time; and he would have been passed over, had not the chairman said:

'Take a seat, sir; make yourself comfortable.'

'Before I have that pleasure,' replied Evan, 'I--'

'I see where 'tis,' burst out the old boy who had previously superinduced

a diversion: 'he's going to ax if he can't have a bed!'

A roar of laughter, and 'Don't you remember this day last year?' followed

the cunning guess. For awhile explication was impossible; and Evan

coloured, and smiled, and waited for them.

'I was going to ask--'

'Said so!' shouted the old boy, gleefully.

'--one of the gentlemen who has engaged a bed-room to do me the extreme

favour to step aside with me, and allow me a moment's speech with him.'

Long faces were drawn, and odd stares were directed toward him, in reply.

'I see where 'tis'; the old boy thumped his knee. 'Ain't it now? Speak

up, sir! There's a lady in the case?'

'I may tell you thus much,' answered Evan, 'that it is an unfortunate

young woman, very ill, who needs rest and quiet.'

'Didn't I say so?' shouted the old boy.

But this time, though his jolly red jowl turned all round to demand a

confirmation, it was not generally considered that he had divined so

correctly. Between a lady and an unfortunate young woman, there seemed to

be a strong distinction, in the minds of the company.

The chairman was the most affected by the communication. His bushy

eyebrows frowned at Evan, and he began tugging at the brass buttons of

his coat, like one preparing to arm for a conflict.

'Speak out, sir, if you please,' he said. 'Above board--no asides--no

taking advantages. You want me to give up my bed-room for the use of your

young woman, sir?'

Evan replied quietly: 'She is a stranger to me; and if you could see her,

sir, and know her situation, I think she would move your pity.'

'I don't doubt it, sir--I don't doubt it,' returned the chairman. 'They

all move our pity. That's how they get over us. She has diddled you, and

she would diddle me, and diddle us all-diddle the devil, I dare say, when

her time comes. I don't doubt it, sir.'

To confront a vehement old gentleman, sitting as president in an assembly

of satellites, requires command of countenance, and Evan was not

browbeaten: he held him, and the whole room, from where he stood, under a

serene and serious eye, for his feelings were too deeply stirred on

behalf of the girl to let him think of himself. That question of hers,

'What are you going to do with me?' implying such helplessness and trust,

was still sharp on his nerves.

'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I humbly beg your pardon for disturbing you as I

do.'

But with a sudden idea that a general address on behalf of a particular

demand must necessarily fail, he let his eyes rest on one there, whose

face was neither stupid nor repellent, and who, though he did not look

up, had an attentive, thoughtful cast about the mouth.

'May I entreat a word apart with you, sir?'

Evan was not mistaken in the index he had perused. The gentleman seemed

to feel that he was selected from the company, and slightly raising his

head, carelessly replied: 'My bed is entirely at your disposal,' resuming

his contemplative pose.

On the point of thanking him, Evan advanced a step, when up started the

irascible chairman.

'I don't permit it! I won't allow it!' And before Evan could ask his

reasons, he had rung the bell, muttering: 'They follow us to our inns,

now, the baggages! They must harry us at our inns! We can't have peace

and quiet at our inns!--'

In a state of combustion, he cried out to the waiter:

'Here, Mark, this gentleman has brought in a dirty wench: pack her up to

my bed-room, and lock her in lock her in, and bring down the key.'

Agreeably deceived in the old gentleman's intentions, Evan could not

refrain from joining the murmured hilarity created by the conclusion of

his order. The latter glared at him, and added: 'Now, sir, you've done

your worst. Sit down, and be merry.'

Replying that he had a friend outside, and would not fail to accept the

invitation, Evan retired. He was met by the hostess with the reproachful

declaration on her lips, that she was a widow woman, wise in appearances,

and that he had brought into her house that night work she did not

expect, or bargain for. Rather (since I must speak truth of my gentleman)

to silence her on the subject, and save his ears, than to propitiate her

favour towards the girl, Evan drew out his constitutionally lean purse,

and dropped it in her hand, praying her to put every expense incurred to

his charge. She exclaimed:

'If Dr. Pillie has his full sleep this night, I shall be astonished'; and

Evan hastily led Jack into the passage to impart to him, that the extent

of his resources was reduced to the smallest of sums in shillings.

'I can beat my friend at that reckoning,' said Mr. Raikes; and they

entered the room.

Eyes were on him. This had ever the effect of causing him to swell to

monstrous proportions in the histrionic line. Asking the waiter

carelessly for some light supper dish, he suggested the various French,

with 'not that?' and the affable naming of another. 'Nor that? Dear me,

we shall have to sup on chops, I believe!'

Evan saw the chairman scrutinizing Raikes, much as he himself might have

done, and he said: 'Bread and cheese for me.'

Raikes exclaimed: 'Really? Well, my lord, you lead, and your taste is

mine!'

A second waiter scudded past, and stopped before the chairman to say: 'If

you please, sir, the gentlemen upstairs send their compliments, and will

be happy to accept.'

'Ha!' was the answer. 'Thought better of it, have they! Lay for three

more, then. Five more, I guess.' He glanced at the pair of intruders.

Among a portion of the guests there had been a return to common talk, and

one had observed that he could not get that 'Good Evening,' and 'Good

Night,' out of his head which had caused a friend to explain the meaning

of these terms of salutation to him: while another, of a philosophic

turn, pursued the theme: 'You see, when we meets, we makes a night of it.

So, when we parts, it's Good Night--natural! ain't it?' A proposition

assented to, and considerably dilated on; but whether he was laughing at

that, or what had aroused the fit, the chairman did not say.

Gentle chuckles had succeeded his laughter by the time the bread and

cheese appeared.

In the rear of the provision came three young gentlemen, of whom the

foremost lumped in, singing to one behind him, 'And you shall have little

Rosey!'

They were clad in cricketing costume, and exhibited the health and

manners of youthful Englishmen of station. Frolicsome young bulls

bursting on an assemblage of sheep, they might be compared to. The

chairman welcomed them a trifle snubbingly. The colour mounted to the

cheeks of Mr. Raikes as he made incision in the cheese, under their eyes,

knitting his brows fearfully, as if at hard work.

The chairman entreated Evan to desist from the cheese; and, pulling out

his watch, thundered: 'Time!'

The company generally jumped on their legs; and, in the midst of a hum of

talk and laughter, he informed Evan and Jack, that he invited them

cordially to a supper up-stairs, and would be pleased if they would

partake of it, and in a great rage if they would not.

Raikes was for condescending to accept.

Evan sprang up and cried: 'Gladly, sir,' and gladly would he have cast

his cockney schoolmate to the winds, in the presence of these young

cricketers; for he had a prognostication.

The door was open, and the company of jolly yeomen, tradesmen, farmers,

and the like, had become intent on observing all the ceremonies of

precedence: not one would broaden his back on the other; and there was

bowing, and scraping, and grimacing, till Farmer Broadmead was hailed

aloud, and the old boy stepped forth, and was summarily pushed through:

the chairman calling from the rear, 'Hulloa! no names to-night!' to which

was answered lustily: 'All right, Mr. Tom!' and the speaker was reproved

with, 'There you go! at it again!' and out and up they hustled.

The chairman said quietly to Evan, as they were ascending the stairs: 'We

don't have names to-night; may as well drop titles.' Which presented no

peculiar meaning to Evan's mind, and he smiled the usual smile.

To Raikes, at the door of the supper-room, the chairman repeated the

same; and with extreme affability and alacrity of abnegation, the other

rejoined, 'Oh, certainly!'

No wonder that he rubbed his hands with more delight than aristocrats and

people with gentlemanly connections are in the habit of betraying at the

prospect of refection, for the release from bread and cheese was rendered

overpoweringly glorious, in his eyes, by the bountiful contrast exhibited

on the board before him.