It was a very old house, with sloping roofs, on which lichen grew in short, thick clumps, and a straggly vine covered its weather- beaten face.
"I wired we were coming," Feathers said. "The people here know me."
He led the way into the parlor. It was bare-boarded with a trestle table running its full length, and wooden benches on either side, but everything was spotlessly clean, and Marie was delighted.
She had never seen an old fireplace with chimney corners like the one in this room. She had never seen such wonderful copper as the old shining pots and pans that hung on the walls.
The landlady was stout and smiling, with a face that shone with a generous application of soap, and she wore long amber earrings.
She seemed very pleased to see Feathers.
"It's a long time since you came to visit us, sir! And the other gentleman—Mr. Lawless—I hope he is well."
"I've just left him in Scotland," Feathers explained. "I dare say you will see him before long. He's been getting married, you know."
"Indeed, sir! I'm sure I wish him luck." She looked at Marie, and Feathers said hastily: "This is Mrs. Lawless."
He had a vivid recollection of another occasion when somebody had 149 asked if he were Marie's husband, and he was not risking a repetition of it.