“Well, come and sleep out too. It will do you all the good in the world. You can have the hammock; I’ll lie on the grass. I always have a rug.”
But Evelyn’s appreciation was not of the practical sort.
“Heaven forbid!” he said. “My bedroom is good enough for me.”
It was already late, and he took a candle and went upstairs, Merivale following him to see he had all he wanted. His servant, however, had arranged the utmost requirements in the most convenient way, and the sight suddenly suggested a new criticism to Evelyn.
“Keeping a servant, too,” he said. “Is not that frightfully inconsistent?”
Merivale laughed.
“You don’t suppose I keep a servant when I am alone?” he asked. “But I find I am so bad at looking after the requirements of my guests that I hire one if anyone happens to be here. He is a man from the hotel at Brockenhurst.”
“I apologise,” said the other. “But do dismiss him to-morrow. For I didn’t want to come to an hotel; I wanted to see how the Hermit really lived.”
“Stop over to-morrow then, and you will see,” said Merivale. “But I keep a woman in the house, who cooks.”
“That also is inconsistent.”