Then obsequiously bowing to the professor and Mr Burne, he led the way into the best house in the village, his men holding the horses, and Yussuf stopping back to see that the baggage was taken in, and the horses carefully stabled in a snug warm place, where plenty of barley was soon forthcoming.
“Why, Yussuf’s stick is a regular magician’s wand,” said Mr Burne, as the master of the house showed them into his clean and comfortable best room, where he bustled about, bringing them rugs and cushions, while, from the noises to be heard elsewhere, it was evident that he was giving orders, which resulted in his sending in a lad with a tray of coffee, fairly hot and good, and wonderfully comforting to the cold and weary travellers.
“Now,” said Mr Burne, “what a chance for him to poison us and finish us off.”
“Have no fear of that. The man would not injure us in that way,” said the professor; “but I must confess to being rather uncomfortable, for I am sure we are in a nest of hornets.”
“Hark!” said Mr Burne, “I can hear a sizzling noise which means cooking, so pray don’t let’s have any prophecies of evil till the supper is over. Then, perhaps, I shall be able to bear them. What do you say, Lawrence?”
“Supper first,” said the latter laughing.
“Very well, then,” said Mr Preston smiling; “we will wait till after a good meal. Perhaps I shall feel more courageous then.”
“What is he doing?” said Lawrence quietly, as their host kept walking in and out, for apparently no other reason than to stare at Mr Burne’s scarlet and yellow head-dress.
“I see,” said Mr Preston quietly; “he evidently thinks Mr Burne here is some great grandee. That fez and its adornments will be a protection to us as you will see.”
“Bah!” ejaculated the old lawyer; “now you are prophesying to another tune, and one is as bad as the other. Give it up; you are no prophet. Oh, how hungry I am!”