Then after a moment’s pause he said:
“Are you going much farther?”
“Only as far as the ‘Pump Saint.’”
“Have you any business there?” said he.
“No,” I replied, “I am travelling the country, and shall only put up there for the night.”
“You had better stay here,” said the young fellow. “You will be better accommodated here than at the ‘Pump Saint.’”
“Very likely,” said I; “but I have resolved to go there, and when I once make a resolution I never alter it.”
Then bidding him good evening I departed. Had I formed no resolution at all about stopping at the “Pump Saint” I certainly should not have stayed in this house, which had all the appearance of a tramper’s hostelry, and though I am very fond of the conversation of trampers, who are the only people from whom you can learn anything, I would much rather have the benefit of it abroad than in their own lairs. A little farther down I met a woman coming up the ascent. She was tolerably respectably dressed, seemed about five-and-thirty, and was rather good-looking. She walked somewhat slowly, which was probably more owing to a large bundle which she bore in her hand than to her path being up-hill.
“Good evening,” said I, stopping.
“Good evening, your honour,” said she, stopping and slightly panting.