"He's pretending! just pretending—the scamp!" said Tom, under his breath, turning back to his horse and cart.
A strange man stood near stroking the animal's head and keeping a light hand on its bridle. He wore a loosely fitting brown suit, and the hand that caressed the horse was almost as brown as his clothes. His head was closely cropped and his face clean-shaven, showing the clear-cut, decided mouth and chin, and the white, even teeth displayed by the smile with which he greeted Tom.
"You may be glad I was at hand or your cart with its cargo of luggage would have been upset in the road," he said. "It's not a wise thing to leave a creature like this standing alone when a train is starting off."
A quick retort was on the tip of Tom's tongue; he had no fancy for being called to account by a perfect stranger, but, although the words sounded authoritative, the tone was good-humoured.
"Thank you, I only left him for a moment; he stands quiet enough as a rule," he said, taking the bridle into his hand.
The stranger picked up the small portmanteau he had set down in the road, and prepared to walk off, then turned half-hesitatingly back to Tom.
"Can you tell me where I can get a night or two's lodging? It does not much matter where it is as long as it is clean and quiet."
Tom took off his cap and rubbed his head thoughtfully.
"Mrs. Lake's a wonderful good sort of woman."
"And who may Mrs. Lake be?" inquired the stranger, pleasantly.