The Wayfarers

by J. C. Snaith

"You don't mean to tell me," says the landlord, "that you have had the impidence to apply to me when you have never had no experience of the dooties?"

I had to explain that such was the case, but earnestly stated that whatever I might lack in knowledge I would certainly make up in zeal. For all that it was like to have gone hard with our engagement had it not been for the intervention of the landlord's wife. It may have been that vanity which is inseparable from the male character, but it did seem to me that from the first the good woman had been disposed to regard me with favour.

"Well, Joseph," says she at this critical moment, "he is a very proper looking young man, I am sure, and as honest looking as the day. I am sure he will do his best if he says he will. Besides, they are man and wife, which is a very main thing."

This reference to the pair of us had the effect of diverting the worthy landlord's attention to Cynthia. No sooner did he observe her than his objections became sensibly less formidable than they had been. And I am afraid it was my little madam's beaux yeux and not our qualifications and accomplishments that got us the situation. Yet even when we had been duly engaged at four pounds a year and our keep, there was like to have been a hitch. The landlady's closer inspection of us revealed the fact that although I might, as she had been good enough to say be "a very proper-looking young man," Cynthia in her opinion was vastly too fine-looking a young woman. She even went the length of describing her as "a blue-eyed slut." Whatever the force of her objections, however, as she herself was entirely responsible for the engagement of the ostler, she could hardly have gainsaid, much as she could have wished to have done so, her husband's right to engage the chambermaid.

It was in this singular but fortunate fashion then that we found ourselves once more provided for. The inn being on a coaching road was not such a mean one as we had at first supposed. The host and hostess of it did not seem to be such bad people either, and as they did not except to have company in the place until later in the evening, and observing that our travels had left us in a sorry condition, they allowed us to make a rough meal, and afterwards to sit by the fire a bit.

It went to my heart that my poor little companion should be brought to this pass, but she acquiesced in it so cheerfully, and with such a merry sense of the occasion as did a great deal to diminish my concern. She was indeed a courageous little creature; and there was something about her new duties that seemed to amuse her, for she went about them with a humorous zest as though she was laughing at herself while she did so. All the same we were genuinely glad when at last the hour came for our retirement. We were thoroughly wearied and footsore too.

We rose in much better heart betimes on the following morning, and set about our unaccustomed tasks with a vigour that compensated for our inexperience. After all, they were of an elementary character, not at all difficult to learn. To be sure it was more than a little strange at first to find ourselves engaged in such lowly capacities, but when after an hour or two the singularity had worn off, they became by no means irksome. Indeed, the novelty of the thing might be said to pass the time pleasantly. But as it happened, we were to be startled out of these pursuits in the rudest manner.

It chanced that about noon I had led the horse of a gentleman, who had passed the previous night at the inn, out of the stable round to the front door. And while I was holding its head against its master's departure there arose a clatter of wheels on the road. In a minute, or less, a chaise drew up at the door. No glance was needed at its occupants to tell me to whom it belonged. The peculiar shape and colour were quite sufficient to advertise me of that matter. It was the Duke in person, accompanied by the indefatigable Mr. Waring. His Grace lost no time in relinquishing the reins, and together they stepped from the vehicle to ease their legs somewhat, and entered the inn in quest of any little refreshment it might afford them. Happily neither paid much heed to me. Indeed beyond an order to give an eye to the horses and to fetch them a drink of water, I claimed no share of their attention.

No sooner had they entered the inn, however, than in the midst of some self-congratulation on my present impunity from discovery, I was beset with a sudden fear of Cynthia. What more likely than that they should directly encounter her, unless she could be apprised of their proximity? She must be warned at all costs. Fortunately at that moment the owner of the horse, whose head I was holding, appeared and relieved me of its charge. Thereupon I hastily entered to advise Cynthia of her danger. Yet I did so only to find that the worst had happened already.

From the parlour the Duke's voice issued in a tremendous key. There could be no doubt that it was as I feared. I lost no time in hastening to my poor little one's assistance, if only to divert a portion of her father's wrath. The scene that confronted me when I entered the inn parlour would not by any means have been devoid of a certain whimsicality had it not had so sinister a bearing on our fortunes. The innkeeper and his wife stood aghast. Mr. Waring was languidly helping himself to a pinch of snuff with an air of the frankest amusement. Cynthia was in a dreadful taking, and weeping bitterly. The Duke, her father, was hopping about like a pea on a hot plate, and threatening to go off any minute into an apoplexy. At my appearance he very nearly did so.