"Ay," he replied; and for the moment I thought no more of the matter.
Before we had come to the head of Ennerdale Water, the moon was up and shining fitfully through a wrack of clouds. The valley, however, was clear of mist, so that I was able to distinguish the house of Applegarth, while I was as yet at some distance from its doors. It was a long, plain building, which promised comfort within by its very lack of ornamentation without, built in a single story and painted a white colour. But it seemed to me, even in that uncertain light, to bear the marks of neglect and decay. There was a little garden in front of the house separated from the lake-shores by an unkempt hedge, and planted only with a few fuchsia bushes; the walls of the house were here and there discoloured, and once or twice as I passed up the garden-path I stepped upon a broken tile.
A woman-servant opened the door and I asked for Mr. Curwen. She looked me over for a second.
"And what may be your business with Mr. Curwen?"
"That I can hardly tell you," said I with a laugh.
"Ah, but you must," said she. She was a woman of some bulk, and she stood with her arms akimbo, filling the doorway. "Is it his last few guineas you might be wanting?" she asked with a slow sarcasm.
"Why, goodwife," I answered impatiently, "do you look for gentlemen of the road in Ennerdale?"
"Goodwife!" she said with a toss of the head. "Goodwife to a ninny-hammer!" and she looked me over again. Indeed, I doubt not but we cut sufficiently disreputable figures. "Not I! And you'll just tell me your business. There are others besides gentlemen of the road who put their fingers into pockets which don't belong to them."
"Hold your noise, Mary Tyson!" said Tash, behind my shoulder. "Do you know me?"
"Oh," said she with a start, "it's William Tash from——"