"Why, bless you, Miss!" replied the girl, "it wont be open these two hours; those lazy fellows are never in it much before eight o'clock. The early coach started an hour ago and more; and then Mr. Jones, who is the night clerk, goes away, and it's long enough before the others come."
"That is very unfortunate!" said Helen, "for I wanted to go to Yelverly as fast as possible."
"There's no coach, ma'am," answered the girl, "till ten o'clock. But hadn't you better step into the waiting-room, and remain there? What coach did you come by?"
"I came by none," replied Helen; "I was brought here from Yelverly against my will, and want to get back, as soon as possible, to Mr. Carr's."
"Oh, what miser Carr's house!" said the girl. "I know that very well, for I was born at Bingley; and I know Miss Juliet very well, too, for she was kind to my poor dear mother before she died."
"She is a very dear and good friend of mine," answered Helen; "and I have been staying at Mr. Carr's for some time: but a party of men brought me away by force this morning."
The girl's, wonder and compassion were both moved by Helen's short account of herself; and after a moment's thought, she said--"May be, you would not like to go into the waiting-room, where everybody can come in. Hadn't I better shew you into a private room, Miss? Some of the waiters will be up soon, and then you can get some breakfast."
Helen very willingly agreed to this proposal, and by the maid's assistance she was, in the space of half-an-hour, not only seated in a comfortable room in the inn, but had before her such tea and toast as the place could afford, and all that constitutes the inn idea of a breakfast. It must not be supposed that Helen forgot her purse had been left behind her, and that she had no money with her; but she had busily turned in her own thoughts the situation in which she was placed, and had made up her mind as to the course she was to pursue, in order to pay both for he accommodation at the inn, and her place back to Yelverly.
The personage who attended upon the room where she sat, who brought her breakfast, and took away the things when she had done, could not exactly be called a dumb waiter, because he possessed at least two words, which were--"Yes, ma'am!" and once even, in a fit of Laputan abstraction, he replied to a question from Helen--"Yes sir!"--though, bless her, she looked as little like a gentleman as it is possible to conceive. From this personage, it may be easily supposed, Helen could get but very little information of any kind, either respecting the starting of the stages, or aught else; and, after having waited till she heard, by the chime of the clock, that the hour of the coach's departure would be the next that struck, she rang the bell, and asked the waiter if she could speak with the mistress of the house?
The waiter replied--"Yes, ma'am"--perhaps with the intention of informing his mistress; but by this time, as I have hinted, it was nine o'clock: people were coming and going; much gossiping was taking place at the door of the house; bells were ringing, and a variety of calls, objurgations, screams, applications, and scoldings, were flying about the chambers and passages, fit to deafen the ears or distract the brain of any personage but Figaro or the waiter of an inn.