"I reckon Jim hain't no objection to stayin' anywhere where Cassie is," remarked another, dryly.
"Who's taking my name in vain here?" called a clear, ringing voice, as a young girl, of some eighteen years of age, entered. Below the middle size, plump and round, with merry, black eyes, a complexion decidedly brown, full, red lips, overflowing with fun and good-nature—such was Cassie Fox, the pretty little hostess of the "Eagle."
Before any one could reply, an unusual noise in the bar-room fell upon their ears. The next moment, Sally, the black maid-of-all-work, came into the "big parlor," with mouth and eyes agape.
"Laws, misses," she said, addressing Cassie, "dar's a gemman—a rale big-bug—out'n de bar-room; a 'spectable, 'sponsible, 'greeable gemman, powerful hansom, wid brack eyes an' har, an' a carpet-bag!"
"Sakes alive!" ejaculated Cassie, dropping the tray, and turning to the looking-glass; "he's handsome, and—my hair's awfully mussed! Gracious! what brings him here, Sally?"
"Got cotch in de storm; 'deed he did, chile—heard him tell marse so my own blessed self."
"Goodness!" again ejaculated the little hostess. "I'm all in a flusterfication. Handsome! dear, dear!—my hair's all out of curl! Black eyes!—I must unpin my dress. Nice hair! Jim Loker, take your legs out of the fire, nobody wants you to make andirons of 'em."
"Cass! Cass, I say! Come here, you Cass!" called the voice of mine host from the bar-room.
Cassie bustled out of the room and entered the bar. Old Giles Fox stood respectfully before the stranger, a young man wrapped in a cloak, tall and handsome, with a sort of dashing, reckless air, that well became him.
"Here, Cass," said her father, "this gentleman's going to stay all night. Show him into the best room, and get supper ready. Be spry, now."