The sun had set, and even the afterglow had faded from the western horizon; yet still the long twilight of summer nights in these latitudes prevailed, and the greater stars shone out one by one as they rattled on, uphill and downhill, over the rolling moor, until at last they came in view of the lights in the quiet village.
In ten minutes they entered the street, and passed under the archway of the Anglesea Arms, the hungriest and weariest set of travelers who had ever entered that ancient hostelry.
Jonah jumped from his seat and secured his horse.
Mr. Force alighted and handed out Wynnette. Le followed them. He had scarcely spoken a word since leaving the mausoleum.
The landlady came out to meet them, in her Sunday gown of black silk, and a new cap.
“I hope as you’ve hed a pleasant day, sir,” she said to Mr. Force, who was the first to meet her.
“Thank you, madam. We have had a very hungry day, at any rate; and, if you please, we would like just such a spread as you gave us last evening,” replied Abel Force.
“You shall have it, sir. It will be on the table in twenty minutes.”
By this time they had reached the parlor and Mr. Force was pulling off his gloves, when Wynnette said:
“Papa, I shall run up to my room and take off my things, and wash my face, but I will be back in a little while.”