“That you do it now is all I ask,” said the landlady.
“Then serve my supper, which I see upon the coals; it seems to be done to a nicety, and I am rarely hungry.”
“Again I tell you that these,” and the landlady pointed to the saucepans bubbling away in the fireplace, “belong to those who came before you. It is the rule of the inn to serve its patrons in turn; and I do not intend to break my rules at this late day.”
“But I assure you, good mistress, that I am one who has very little respect for rules of whatsoever description,” said the man. “A supper I want, and a supper I will have, and that speedily.”
“It is a young lady, I tell you,” said the hostess; “and with her is a weak old man, her father.”
“Young ladies have no business upon the road in these times,” said the fellow, his yellowed teeth well displayed. “And as for weak old men, better for them if they stopped at home at all times.”
Ben crossed the room and stood by the fireplace, his back to the blaze; the night was cold, and the heat was comforting.
“Better, indeed,” said the landlady, “when they must be interfered with by such as you.”
“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” said the man, and his yellow smile grew particularly evil; his narrow eyes sparkled with anger, and his great, bony hands grasped the arms of his chair.
“There are few, if any, that can say that I ever treated them uncivilly,” maintained the landlady, “and if my words are at all severe, it is your own fault.”