“Oh, quite right! Quite right!” said the little woman, waving him hurriedly away. “Good-night!”
“Good-night,” said Tackleton. “Good-night, John Peerybingle! Take care how you carry that box, Caleb. Let it fall and I’ll murder you! Dark as pitch, and weather worse than ever, eh? Good-night!”
So, with another sharp look round the room, he went out the door, followed by Caleb with the wedding cake on his head.
The carrier had been so much astonished by his little wife, and so busily trying to sooth her that he had scarcely been conscious of the Stranger’s presence until now, when he looked up and saw him standing there, their only guest!
“He don’t belong to them, you see,” said John. “I must give him a hint to go.”
Just at that moment the old gentleman came toward him, saying, “I beg your pardon, friend, but since my attendant has not come and the weather is so bad, can you, in your kindness, let me rent a bed here?”
“Yes, yes!” cried Dot. “Yes! Certainly!”
“Oh!” exclaimed the carrier, surprised by the quickness of her consent. “Well, I don’t object; still I’m not quite sure—”
“Hush!” she interrupted. “Dear John, please.”
“Why, he’s stone deaf,” urged John.