It was certainly something entirely out of the experience of the old innkeeper at the country crossroads to be aroused from his slumbers at midnight by guests seeking the shelter of his hospitable roof, and that, too, on the most terrible night of the year.
The old man could scarcely believe his ears when he heard the sound of the old brass knocker on the front door resound loudly through the house.
He quite imagined that he must have dreamed it, until a second and third peal brought him to his senses and his feet at the same instant.
His bewilderment knew no bounds when he appeared at the door a few minutes later and found a coach standing there and the occupants seeking a lodging, also shelter for the horses.
"I haven't but one room to spare," exclaimed the old innkeeper, holding a flaring candle high above his head to better view his visitor.
"Have you a room in which a fire could be made?" asked one of the men. "We have a lady with us."
"I suppose we could let you have my daughter Betsy's, she being off to the city on a visit."
"My companion and his br—his wife could have that; you can dispose of me anywhere," returned the speaker. "I could doze in a chair in the barroom for that matter. The driver could be as easily disposed of."
"Then bring the lady right in," said the old innkeeper. A moment later, the lovely girl, still unconscious, was brought in and laid upon the settee in the best room.
"What is the matter with the young woman?" gasped the innkeeper, his eyes opening wide with amazement.