As Miss Fouracres spoke a sound from the house drew her attention; some one had entered the inn.
'A customer?' said Mr. Ruddiman. 'Let me go and serve him—do let me!'
'But you wouldn't know how, sir.'
'If it's beer, and that's most likely, I know well enough. I've watched you so often. I'll go and see.'
With the face of a schoolboy he ran into the house, and was absent about ten minutes. Then he reappeared, chinking coppers in his hand and laughing gleefully.
'A cyclist! Pint of half-and-half! I served him as if I'd done nothing else all my life.'
Miss Fouracres looked at him with wonder and admiration. She did not laugh; demonstrative mirth was not one of her characteristics; but for a long time there dwelt upon her good, plain countenance a half-smile of placid contentment. When they went in together, Mr. Ruddiman begged her to teach him all the mysteries of the bar, and his request was willingly granted. In this way they amused themselves until the return of the landlord, who, as soon as he had stabled his pony, called Mr. Ruddiman aside, and said in a hoarse whisper—
'The Prince comes to-morrow!'
'Ha! does he?' was the answer, in a tone of feigned interest.
'I shall see him. It's all settled. I've made friends with one of the gardeners at Woodbury Manor, and he's promised to put me in the way of meeting His Royal Highness. I shall have to go over there for a day or two, and stay in Woodbury, to be on the spot when the chance offers.'