She looked him fairly in the eye for a moment, and then impulsively extended her hand. He clasped it warmly, but not without some show of surprise.
"I am trusting you implicitly," she said.
"The knave is glorified," was his simple rejoinder. He conducted her to the improvised bed-chamber, Aunt Fanny following with loyal but uncertain tread. "I regret, your highness, that the conveniences are so few. We have no landlady except Mother Earth, no waiters, no porters, no maids, in the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. This being a men's hotel, the baths are on the river-front. I am having water brought to your apartments, however, but it is with deepest shame and sorrow that I confess we have no towels."
She laughed so heartily that his face brightened perceptibly, whilst the faces of his men turned in their direction as though by concert.
"It is a typical mountain resort, then," she said, "I think I can manage very well if you will fetch my bags to my room, sir."
"By the way, will you have dinner served in your room?" very good-humoredly.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to eat in the public dining-room," said she. A few minutes later Beverly was sitting upon one of her small trunks and Aunt Fanny was laboriously brushing her dark hair.
"It's very jolly being a princess," murmured Miss Calhoun. She had bathed her face in one of the leather buckets from the coach, and the dust of the road had been brushed away by the vigorous lady-in-waiting.
"Yas, ma'am, Miss—yo' highness, hit's monstrous fine fo' yo', but whar is Ah goin' to sleep? Out yondah, wif all dose scalawags?" said Aunt Fanny, rebelliously.
"You shall have a bed in here, Aunt Fanny," said Beverly.