The road soon dropped among the trees, and our driver pointed out with evident pride the Queen's cottage on the shore of the upper lake, built a good many years ago in order that Victoria, on her tour of the lakes, might have a fitting place in which to lunch, and which has never been occupied since. Then the road ran close beside the border of the middle lake, plunged again into the woods for a mile or two; and at last the bus stopped before the inn where we intended to stay, and we climbed down regretfully.
The inn was a long, two-storied building, standing a little back from the road, and the porter who came running out to take our bags might have stepped straight out of Pickwick, he was so fat, so jolly, and so rubicund. I had some films I wanted developed at once, because I was afraid the damp weather would affect them, and I asked him where I could get it done.
"There's a man just this side of the village can do it, sir," he said. "You will see his sign as you go along the road."
"How far is it?" I asked.
"The village is two mile, sir."
"Then it's less than two miles?"
"It is, sir."
I turned to Betty.
"We've got plenty of time before dinner," I said. "Suppose we walk in and see the town."
And Betty, wotting little of what was before her, consented.