A frightened little man in a huge apron fluttered about somewhat helplessly.
“Here is a place,” said he, drawing back his chair at a table in a shadowy corner. “And a very good place, too, sir. Much to be desired, indeed.”
“You’ll tempt me to lay my stick over your back yet,” bellowed the impatient guest. “What sort of a situation is that for a man of my quality? A fitting place for a dog to curl up, but not for a gentleman to eat his dinner in.”
“This way, sir,” interposed the host, much in haste, for complaint was distasteful to him. “This way. Here is a place well lighted and well aired,” and he drew out a chair at George’s table. “The young gentleman will not object, I’m sure,” and he bowed to George.
“Not in the least,” said George, and as he spoke he glanced up. At once he recognized in the noisy, ill-tempered guest the burly personage whom he had seen a few minutes before in conference with Major Hyde and the dragoon officer, across the way.
“Object!” said the big man in a harsh voice. “Object! Why should he, I’d like to know? This is a public inn, and I think I know my rights in such a place.”
So saying, he slapped his dusty beaver hat upon the table and sat down facing George with noisy ostentation. There was something deliberately offensive in the man’s manner, and George darted a sharp look at him, though he said nothing. The newcomer noted the look, and thrusting his head forward inquired, bluntly:
“You have nothing to say, I trust, young sir?”
“In my turn,” replied young Prentiss, quietly, “I trust that I shall have no occasion to say anything.”
The burly man did not seem to know how to take this; but evidently he suspected some hidden meaning in the saying, for his little eyes began to snap.