"Dem's de debble's pictures, sah."
"Then pass along a concertina," remarked Tod, pushing back his chair with a sigh of repletion, "or even a Jew's harp, or a----"
"Why not say a phonograph, while you're about it, Macandrew?" said Haskins, with feigned crossness, "we're as likely to find the one as the other in this place at the Back-of-Beyond."
"With great respect, Mr. Haskins, sah," said Geary, falling into the trap promptly, "dere's my wife's phonograph. My wife Hannah let you hab dat phonograph to hear de godly hymns."
"Just what I want to hear," said Gerald untruthfully, "but what on earth made you get a phonograph?"
Geary smiled expansively, displaying magnificent teeth. "Dere was a traveler who came dis way wid phonographs, and he stop here. He so pleased wid my wife Hannah's cooking dat he gave her de phonograph, and den sell many, many, many all round--all round," and the landlord stretched his arms to embrace the globe.
"What kind of a phonograph is it?" asked Gerald, with a triumphant look at Tod to bid him watch how Romance was working golden threads into the gray fabric of the commonplace. "I don't want to hear a bad one."
Before Geary could reply there sounded through the window an up-to-date note from the outer world. The "Toot! toot! toot!" of a motor horn brought the young men to their feet and to the window, which looked out on to the bridge. A motor car draws the attention of the grown-up as much as a military band attracts the notice of a child. Mr. Geary departed with dignified haste to see what new and aristocratic visitor was coming, and--since Tod's bulky form filled in the whole small window--Gerald followed at his leisure. The coming of the motor car stirred up the same bustle in this lonely inn as did the mail coach in the days of old. Even Mrs. Geary emerged from the back-kitchen to view the spectacle with three small children clinging to her lengthy skirts, like the Lilliputians to Gulliver's coat-tails.
"Toot! toot! toot!" The horn sounded cheerfully and close at hand. A magnificent Hadrian, scarlet as the sunset, swung down the long descent and hummed across the bridge with a powerful drone. There were two men in front, disguised in the orthodox goggles and caps and shapeless coats, but the body of the car was empty, save for a large portmanteau and some small parcels done up in brown paper. The rustics crowded round the car, to comment thereon, and to misname it "a steam-engine," while the foremost man, who was handling the steering-gear, slipped from his seat to stretch himself and to salute Geary.
"Hello, Adonis, is that you?" he said, nodding brusquely. "I want a wash and a glass of brandy. Then I'm off again. I must reach Leegarth before sundown."