“Yes, uncle; here is where we turned off from the highway. Which turn shall I take—on to Brimpts or back to Ashburton?”
“On ahead, Brimpts way. There’s a little public-house at Pound Gate, and I be that dry, and the cob, I reckon, be that lazy—we’d best turn in there and rest the night. The shaking of the cart hurts me, moreover.”
Kate got up into the vehicle and drove. Her uncle gladly resigned the reins to her. He could have held them, indeed, but not have used the whip, and Diamond would not go with him unless he used the whip.
Before long the little tavern was reached—a low building of moorstones, whitewashed, with a thatched roof, and a sign over the door.
To the surprise of Pepperill, he saw a chaise without horses outside.
At the inn he drew up. The landlord came to the door and helped him to descend.
“What! hurt yourself, Mr. Pepperill?”
“Yes; had a spill.”
“On your way to Brimpts, I suppose? I hear you are selling the timber.”
“Yes, to Government. Have you visitors?”