“Come in,” she said, “and welcome to what we can give. Sit down. Have you come far?”
“From across the Dark Mountains.”
“So far—and you are lame? Quick, Bagga, make some coffee.”
Bagga whispered something in her mother’s ear. The latter looked at her daughter, and then at the stranger. Her glance expressed concern.
“Is it true? You have lost an eye, and lame as well?” She came towards him. “Then you must be ... you are Guest the One-eyed?”
“So I am called,” was the reply.
She grasped his hand, and her voice trembled.
“God bless you!” she said earnestly—“God bless you! And blessed be the hour that brought you here.”
Bagga had left the room, and the two were alone.
“Where did you spend the night?”