“A most wretched night, it must be confessed, sir,” said the stranger, addressing himself to Ashbrook.
“Yes, sir. I thought we should have it before morning, but didn’t expect it to come on so suddenly.”
“This is very awkward,” remarked the stranger to Brickett. “Are you sure you cannot accommodate me?”
“I’m sorry to say I’m quite full. This is market day, and I have got more than my average number of visitors. Every bed in the house is engaged.”
A magnificent black horse was brought by the ostler in front of the “Carved Lion,” and the stranger mounted. It was at this time pouring in torrents. Brickett, who was holding a horn lantern, seemed much annoyed that he could not find the rider a bed.
“Do you know of any other house where I am likely to meet with the accommodation I require?” said the stranger.
“Well, there’s the ‘Frighted Horse’ about two miles and a half down the road, but it’s not a place I should like to recommend,” returned Brickett.
“What does the gentleman want?” cried Ashbrook. “A bed?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you surely are not going to turn him out such a night as this?”