Scroope thought not. “It hadn't a garden in front?” He couldn't say positively; but, if so, it was a small garden. “He did n't remark two dogs in stone beside the door?” No, he had not seen them.
“Then, by the powers!” exclaimed Peter, “I give it up. Nelly's the only body can make anything out of it.”
“And who's Ne-Ne-Nelly?” screamed Purvis.
“My daughter, Miss Dalton,” said Peter, haughtily, And as if rebuking the liberty of the question.
Scroope hastened to apologize, and suddenly remembered how frequently he had heard of the young lady from her sister, and how eager Mrs. Ricketts would be to make her Acquaintance.
“There's nothing easier than that same,” said Dalton. “Just come with me to my little place, and take tea with us. Nelly will be right glad to see them that was kind to her sister, and then we'll try if we can't find out your inn.”
“Can we do this, Martha?” cried Scroope, in seeming Agitation.
“I 'll speak to my sister,” mildly replied she.
“Do, then, Miss,” said Dalton. “Say 'tis just alone, and in the family way, and that we have n't more than ten minutes' walk from this; or, we 'll get a coach if she likes.”
The very thought of practising hospitality was ecstasy to honest Peter, who, while Martha retired to consult her sister, ordered in a relay of bottles to beguile the time.