Ben smiled good-naturedly.
“Why,” said he, “I confess, friend, that I have no great liking for such persons. But as my business at this time brings me in contact with more or less ungentle conduct, I don’t suppose that I need put myself about because of a trifle additional.”
He nodded, still smiling, to the little man, and lifting the latch entered the inn. As he had noted, the room was filled with candle-light; a great fire of billets crackled and blazed in the fireplace; and the smell of savory dishes being prepared in copper saucepans came with added distinctness to his nostrils. Ben’s round face, fresh colored cheeks and merry eyes always made him liked wherever he went, and as he stood stamping the snow from his boots in the doorway, he said to the buxom landlady:
“A good-evening to you, mistress; I hope your cooking is as good as it smells, for I am well toward being famished.”
He knocked some clogging particles from his heels with the stock of his riding whip; and as he was doing so, he noted with surprise that his cheery greeting was not replied to. He had stopped at the inn upon frequent occasions, and was known to the landlady; never before had she failed to bid him welcome.
So glancing up, he was about to say something more, when he noticed that her face was pale, and that she was trembling with anger.
“And so, landlady,” said a voice, “I may have no supper, eh?”
“You may have supper, sir,” said the woman. “You have but to conduct yourself in a fitting manner.”
The person whom she addressed was a huge, loose-jointed fellow with long black hair as straight as that of an Indian, and attired in a soiled traveling costume. He had sharp, ratty black eyes and a wide, thin-lipped mouth. His grin at the landlady’s words showed a row of yellowed teeth.
“Conduct myself in a fitting manner,” said he; “why, mistress, you asking that is like demanding that the fire be warm or the breeze be cool. I always so conduct myself.”