"Tell me, ye wingèd winds, that round my pathway roam,
Is there no hotel in Truro where the landlord sells no rum?"
And the answer came, not from the winds she had apostrophized, but from an open window that she had not observed; and the answer was:
"Fair lady, there is none."
"There! I told you that someone would hear you, Dexie," said Lancy, vexed, yet amused at her behavior.
But Dexie stood as if unable to move, and gazed at the open window in astonishment.
But the owner of the voice now appeared at the door, and Dexie drew a sigh of relief as she saw what a good-natured, smiling face it was that looked into her own. He never belonged to that house, she felt sure, though it was nothing to his credit to be lounging inside its doors. However, it was not likely he would consider her remarks as personal, so she slowly regained her composure.
With a profound bow, the gentleman at the window said:
"There are no hotels such as you speak of in the town, but there are several private boarding-houses where travellers can be made comfortable. May I have the pleasure of directing you to one?" This to Lancy.
"If it would not be too much trouble, we would be very much obliged," and Lancy's natural state of mind slowly returned.