"Marshminster is only ten miles away," answered she, in nowise disposed to admit me.
"And for that reason I want a bed here. Twenty or more miles walking under a hot sun has wearied me considerably."
"I am sorry we cannot accommodate you, sir."
"This is an inn," I said, glancing at the sign.
"The Fen Inn, sir," she replied, still smiling, "and full of guests for the time being."
"Full of guests, in this locality! You must then entertain waterfowl, for I have seen no human being for the last twelve miles."
She made no direct answer, but shook her head and prepared to close the door. Piqued by the discourtesy, and still more by the mystery of this reception, I was about to insist upon admission, when my attention was attracted to a face at the near window. I recognized it as that of a college friend, and waved my stick in greeting.
"Halloa, Briarfield!" I shouted lustily. "Come and help me to a night's lodgings."
The girl was surprised by my remark, and, as I thought, changed color. She stepped aside to let Briarfield pass, and exhibited further astonishment at the urbanity of our greeting.
"What wind blows you here, Denham?" asked Briarfield, shaking my hand.