The horse was taken to the stable, while the gentleman was ushered into a parlor where were two ladies. The usual preliminary questions and answers were gone through, for in a new country people soon become acquainted, and the gentleman ere long found himself seated at a comfortable hot supper—we will venture to say a fine supper—since the table in this domestic establishment has always been somewhat famous.
Apparently, the gentleman enjoyed it, for he made himself quite at home. He even called for a boot-jack after tea, and drew off his boots. The ladies were a little surprised, but they had lived a good while out of the world, and they did not know what changes in etiquette might have taken place during their retirement.
Before taking his leave for the night, the traveller signified what it would please him to have for breakfast, which was duly prepared. The next day proved stormy. The gentleman was satisfied with his quarters, and having taken care to ascertain that there was no neglect, or deficiency of accommodation so far as his horse was concerned, he got through the day very comfortably.
Now and then, when he was tired of reading, he would converse with the family, and seemed, upon the whole, by no means disposed to hold himself aloof, but to indulge in a little becoming sociability, seeing they were all there away in the woods.
The second day the weather brightened. The traveller signified his intention to depart. He ordered his horse to the door—then he called for his bill.
“My house is not a tavern, sir,” was the astounding reply.
“Not a tavern! Good heavens! have I been making myself at home in this manner in a private family?”
The gentleman was profuse in his apologies, which, however, were quite unnecessary, for the family had perceived from the first the mistake he had fallen into, and they had amused themselves during his whole visit in anticipating the consternation of their guest when he should be undeceived.