"Ah! the 'Rothwell Arms'!"
"And as for lodgings," the old man continued, with something alert and watchful in his manner, "the fact is people don't care to lodge in Mitchelhurst. They live there, a few of them—myself for instance—but there is nothing in the place to attract ordinary visitors."
He paused, but the only comment was—
"Indeed?"
"Nothing whatever," he affirmed. "A little, out-of-the-way, uninteresting village—but you are anxious to stay here?"
The stranger was re-arranging the loosened handkerchief with slender, unskilful fingers.
"For a few days—yes," he repeated, half absently, as he tried to tuck away a hanging end.
"Uncle," said Barbara, with timid eagerness, "doesn't Mrs. Simmonds let lodgings? When that man came surveying, or something, last summer, didn't he have rooms in her house? I'm very nearly sure he did."
Her uncle intercepted, as it were, the stranger's glance of inquiry.
"Perhaps. But I don't think Mrs. Simmonds will do on this occasion."