I informed her courteously of my intentions and she replied, again with that air of aloofness:
“Ye’ll have to go afore dinner.”
“But why?” I remonstrated. “I’m very comfortable here. And I don’t want to go before dinner.”
“There’s no dinner served in this house on Sunday,” she responded indifferently.
I looked at her abstractedly for a few moments as she finished clearing the table, and then as she was leaving the room I asked her if she’d be kind enough to ask the landlord or landlady to come and see me. She did not answer, but in about a minute a stout, comely dame appeared with the light of battle in her eye. To her I addressed myself, treating the waitress’s communication as sheer irresponsible froth. But I was suddenly cut short by the dame, who exploded:
“Thirty-five year I’ve kept this house and I’ve never served owt in it of a Sunday except breakfast, an’ I never will.”
I began to feel a little warm myself now, and quietly suggested that by the Innkeepers’ Act she was bound to keep me as long as I behaved myself and showed willingness and ability to pay. It was unfortunate, for she rose to a towering height of rage, avowing her intention of sacrificing all she possessed in the world rather than break her Sabbath rule.
Well, I am a man of peace, and have a certain amount of self-control, so I left the house, caught an earlier train and found most comfortable quarters at Halifax. But wasn’t it funny?
CHAPTER VIII
HOSPITALITY
Hospitality, as generally practised in the three kingdoms, is a very delightful thing, but to the lecturer it is apt to be deadly, unless indeed he is churlish and refuses to reciprocate at all to the kindness shown him. Occasionally, of course, one meets with that most objectionable person whose only reason for giving you an invitation is that you may amuse his or her guests and incidentally shed lustre upon your host as being able to catch such a lion and induce him to roar to order. Happily such folks are rare and are becoming rarer, yet still many lecturers have a well-founded fear of being “entertained within an inch of their lives,” and make it a rule to refuse all invitations, preferring to go to an hotel where they can have what they like to eat, go to bed when they like, and get up ditto without fear of putting anybody out or appearing faddish.