“No; I’ve no money for betting.”
“Happy to oblige you, dear boy. Eh? No! All right. Glad you are so independent. It’s going on bloomingly, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“The miller’s lovely daughter,” sang the visitor, laughingly. “I mean the stonemason’s.”
Glyddyr muttered an oath between his teeth.
“Hush! Don’t swear, dear boy—the waiter.”
For at that moment the man brought in a tray, busied himself for a time till all was ready, and left the room.
“That’s your sort,” said Glyddyr’s visitor, settling himself at the table. “Won’t join me, I suppose? Won’t have an echo?”
“What do you mean?”
“Second breakfast. Eh? No? All right. Hah! Very appetising after a long journey—confoundedly long journey. You do put up in such out of the way spots. Quite hard to find.”