“‘Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.’
“Give me a short piece of candle and a stumpy candlestick—and
‘Take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber’”—
“Glad to see you back, Mr. Tarbox,” responded the host; and as his guest received the candle and heard the number of his room,—“books must ’a’ went well this fine day.”
Mr. Tarbox fixed him with his eye, drew a soft step closer, said in a low tone:
“‘My only books
Were woman’s looks,
And folly’s all they’ve taught me.’”
The landlord raised his eyebrows, rounded his mouth, and darted out his tongue. The guest shifted the candle to his left hand, laid his right softly upon the host’s arm, and murmured:
“List! Are we alone? If I tell thee something, wilt thou tell it never?”
The landlord smiled eagerly, shook his head, and bent toward his speaker.
“Friend Perkins,” said Mr. Tarbox, in muffled voice—