The landlord, as soon as he perceived an obvious member of the Quality upon the threshold, abandoned the lady without ceremony, and stepped forward, bowing, and desiring to know in what way he might have the honour of serving the newcomer.

“It will be time enough to serve me when you have attended to this lady,” replied Sir Gareth, who had not failed to remark the indignant expression in the lady’s big eyes.

“Oh, no, sir! No, indeed! I am quite at liberty—very happy to wait upon your honour immediately!” the landlord assured him. “I was just telling the young person that I daresay she will find accommodation at the Rose and Crown.”

These words were added in a lowered voice, but they reached the lady’s ears, and caused her to say in a tone of strong disapprobation: “I am not a young person, and if I wish to stay in your horrid inn, I shall stay here, and it is not of the least use to tell me that you have no room, because I don’t believe you!”

“I’ve told you before, miss, that this is a posting-house, and we don’t serve young per—females—who come walking in with no more than a couple of bandboxes!” said the landlord angrily. “I don’t know what your lay is, nor I don’t want to, but I haven’t got any room for you, and that’s my last word!”

Sir Gareth, who had retired tactfully to the window-embrasure, had been watching the stormy little face under the chip-hat. It was an enchantingly pretty face, with large, dark eyes, a lovely, wilful mouth, and a most determined chin.