That evening they reached Exeter, and stopped for the night at the New London Inn, a veritable paradise for the decorators of the party. Its public-room and bed-rooms were furnished with genuine old mahogany pieces centuries old. Settles, cupboards, and refectory tables stood in the main room downstairs, while old Sheraton tables, Chippendale chairs, ancient, carved four-posters, and highboys or lowboys, furnished the guest-chambers.
“Nolla, did you ever see so many lovely old things!” exclaimed Polly, as they admired one thing after another.
“I wish we could steal some of them,” ventured Eleanor, laughingly.
“Maybe the owner will sell some,” suggested Polly.
But Mr. Fabian learned later, that the inn-keeper was as great an enthusiast and collector of antiques as the Americans, and would not part for love or money, with any piece in his collection.
In the morning Mr. Fabian escorted his friends to the cathedral of Exeter, explaining everything worth while, as he went.
Jimmy had ascertained, the night previous, that Ruth purposed going with her friends, so he refused to get up in the morning, sending down word instead, that he felt bad. He hoped this might induce Ruth to remain and comfort him, but he learned later that she had gone gayly with the others, when they started out for the old edifice.
Shortly after the party left, a knock came upon Jimmy’s door and he gruffly called out: “Come in!”
Mrs. Alexander tip-toed in and immediately began to condole with him. “Poor Jimmy! I feel so concerned over you. Just let me mother you, if you are ill!”
Jimmy growled: “I’m not ill—just sleepy!”