"And something to eat, don't forget that," put in Mr. Ranquist. "That twelve-mile stage journey has given me a tremendous appetite."
"Wa'al," began Mr. Crownheart, slowly, as if trying to think of something to say,—"wa'al, t' be honest 'ith ye, we don't hev much call fer lodgins fer man 'n' beast here. Cou'se I kin guv ye suthin' t' eat, but th' bed—um—d' ye mind both sleepin' in th' same room?"
"We would prefer it, if there are separate beds," said Mr. Dudley.
"I guess Mrs. Crownheart kin fix ye up then. Ye see we ain't very strong on sleepin' quarters, 'ceptin' fer our own family. Last time we hed boarders were quite a number a' years ago, in fact when th' Cardiff giant were first diskivered. I s'pose ye hearn tell a' thet," and he paused for an answer.
Mr. Dudley nodded.
"Yep," went on Abe, "th' figger were diskivered right acrost th' valley here, 'n' I boarded some a' th' men what were exhibitin' it. I recollect how—"
"I dare say," broke in Mr. Dudley, shortly, "I have heard considerable about that giant fraud, and some future day I will be glad to discuss the various features of it with you, but now, my dear Mr. Crowhead—"
"Crownheart, sir, that's my name,—Crownheart, not Crowhead," said Abe, a little nettled. "It's right on the sign."
"Oh, yes, to be sure, Crownheart, I beg your pardon, exceedingly stupid of me. No offence, I assure you, my eyesight is not as good as it once was."
"Least said soonest mended," answered Mr. Crownheart, smiling good-naturedly. "Thet giant—"