"But I had none of it, good dame."
"Is that my fault? You are welcome to your share for me."
"But I was benighted, and a stranger, and belated sore against my will."
"What have I to do with that? All the world knows 'the Star of the Forest' sups from six till eight. Come before six, ye sup well; come before eight, ye sup as pleases Heaven; come after eight, ye get a clean bed, and a stirrup cup, or a horn of kine's milk at the dawning."
Gerard looked blank. "May I go to bed then, dame?" said he sulkily, "for it is ill sitting up wet and fasting, and the byword saith 'he sups who sleeps.'"
"The beds are not come yet," replied the landlady: "you will sleep when the rest do. Inns are not built for one."
It was Gerard's turn to be astonished. "The beds were not come: what in Heaven's name did she mean?" But he was afraid to ask, for every word he had spoken hitherto had amazed the assembly; and zoological eyes were upon him—he felt them. He leaned against the wall and sighed audibly.
At this fresh zoological trait a titter went round the watchful company.
"So this is Germany," thought Gerard, "and Germany is a great country by Holland. Small nations for me."
He consoled himself by reflecting it was to be his last, as well as his first, night in the land. His reverie was interrupted by an elbow driven into his ribs. He turned sharp on his assailant; who pointed across the room. Gerard looked, and a woman in the corner was beckoning him. He went towards her gingerly, being surprised and irresolute, so that to a spectator her beckoning finger seemed to be pulling him across the floor with a gut line. When he had got up to her, "hold the child," said she in a fine hearty voice and in a moment she plumped the bairn into Gerard's arms.