“As well no,” said Simon, darkly.
“Far better no; there’s Master Harry is a good customer—no that he takes much when he’s here; but he’s for ever aboot the house.”
“Ay, so?” said old Simon; “I thought he wasna the fine lad he used to be. So he’s for ever aboot this house?”
“Ye’re an auld ill-tongued—why shouldn’t he be aboot this house? Is there any harm in this house? The curate himself, when he has a friend with him, he’ll come to me for his dinner. The ‘Red Lion’s’ as good a house as is atween this and Carlisle. Show you me another that is mair exact in a’ the regulations, and gies less trouble. There no been so much as a fine paid in the ‘Red Lion,’ no since my fayther’s time that had it afore us. We’re kent through aw the countryside.”
“I’m saying nae harm o’ t’ ‘Red Lion.’ Ye snap a man oop that short; but a gentleman he’s best at home. I say to your face, mistress, as I wouldn’t say worst behind your back. And if he’s hanging aboot a tap day and night—”
“Never but the night,” said the mistress of the “Red Lion,” promptly. “I’ve never seen him in the day but passing the road; and a civil lad he is, no a bit proud, no like your oopish ways. And about the tap it’s an untruth, Simon, just an untruth. He’ll take his glass; but it’s not for drink he comes, it’s for company. Tak’ you your butter to t’other side o’ t’hoose. I’ll not have you down here.”
“Na, Mistress, there’s was nae harm meant. You ken what’s thought in a country place when a lad is seen aboot a public. And lads will be lads. I reckon they keepit it oop late last nicht—keeping decent folk out of their beds.”
“No a moment after the fixed time,” said Mrs. Armstrong, promptly. “No a moment! I’m till a moment myself, and my master he’s as exact as me. Na, na, oor character is mair to us than a bottle or twa extra. Out o’ this house they all go at eleven clock of night——”
“But, mistress, ye’ve beds for man and baist,” said Simon, stolidly. “You will not turn oot upon the street them that bides here?”
“Hoot,” said the woman, with more good humour “what has that to do with Mr. Harry? He never bides here; and we’ve few enough lodgers. Who would come to the fells for pleasure at this time of the year? Noo and again we’ve got a gentleman fishing. I wonder ye don’t mak’ a bit o’ money oot o’ birds t’autumn, Simon. They say it’s no that plenty at the White House.”