“Lor’ bless you, sir, we don’t get ’em in like that; not so many in a day. In a month, more like. Why, I don’t suppose there’s been a stranger in this bar before you gents come in not for a matter o’ nearly a week.”
“You don’t say!”
“I do, sir,” retorted the landlord with much earnestness. “I do an’ all.”
“Well, I should have thought you’d have got plenty in a cosy little place like this. Anyhow, you can be sure that I shall warn all my friends to come and pay you a visit if they happen to be in the neighbourhood. Better beer I’ve never tasted anywhere.”
“It is good beer,” the landlord admitted, almost reluctantly. “Thank you kindly, sir. And anything I can do in return for you and your friends, I’m sure I’ll be most happy.”
“Well, you can do something now, as a matter of fact,” Roger rejoined caressingly. “We’ve come over from Elchester to see Prince—er John, you know. Up at Hillcrest Farm.”
The landlord nodded. “Aye; I know.”
“So if you could put us on the right road from here, we should be very grateful.”
“Turn to the left when you get out of here and go straight on, sir,” returned the landlord promptly. “You can’t miss it. First farm on the right-’and side past the crossroads.”
“Thanks very much. Let me see, I’ve never actually met Prince before, but he’s pretty easy to recognise, I understand. Big fellow, isn’t he?”