The peculiar form in which this request was made, and the tone in which it was uttered, put it almost out of the power of the farmer to say no.
"Go in there and sit down," he (sic) answed, pointing to the kitchen, "and I will see my wife, and hear what she has to say."
And Mr. Wade went into the parlor where the supper table stood, covered with a snow-white cloth, and displaying his wife's set of bluesprigged china, that was only brought out on special occasions. Two tall mould candles were burning thereon, and on the hearth blazed a cheerful hickory fire.
"Hasn't that old fellow gone yet?" asked Mrs. Wade. She had heard his voice as he returned from the door.
"No. And what do you suppose? He wants us to let him stay all night."
"Indeed, and we'll do no such thing! We can't have the likes of him in the house, no how. Where could he sleep?"
"Not in the best room, even if Mr. N—shouldn't come."
"No, indeed!"
"But I really don't see, Jane how we can turn him out of doors. He doesn't look like a very strong man, and it's dark and cold, and full three miles to D—."
"It's too much! He ought to have gone on while he had daylight, and not lingered here as he did until it got dark."