"'Not exactly,' said I; 'I shall take off my clothes when I go to bed—and as for my servant, he is snug and happy at Sir Marmaduke Wrigglesworth's (where I ought to be too), unless they have sent him out with a rake and a lantern to search for me and drag all the horse-ponds in the neighbourhood. I tell you I am hungry—and tired—and shall be very sleepy;—out with your tit-bits and delicacies—something piquant—nice—savoury, eh—and after that, a comfortable nest.'
"'You shall have something to eat,' said the widow, 'and something to drink, for those I can give you myself; but as for a bed, I haven't one in the house—crammed full from top to bottom.'
"'I'm very tired,' said I; I can sleep compact like a dog on a hearth-rug—half a bed will do for me.'
"'Come, Mr. Daly,' said the landlady, 'none of your nonsense—I have no bed whatever to-night, and here it is almost one o'clock—you had better let me ring up the next turn-out, and get back to Wrigglesworth.'
"'Thank you, Fanny,' said I; 'I used to call her Fanny in her husband's time, and he was killed, switching a rasper, three years before; 'not I—I should not get there till nearly four—all the family "in a deep sleep buried,"—no, no—none of your nonsense—where am I to rest?'
"'I told you the truth,' said the widow; 'there's not a bed disengaged.'
"'Not one?' said I—looking, as I fancied, most insinuatingly, and helping myself to a glass of brandy from a bottle covered with a gilt bunch of grapes, at the same time gently pressing the tip of mine hostess's little finger.
"'Not one, upon my life, Mr. Daly,' replied she; 'indeed, we are so full, that my sister Jane, who is here, is obliged to sleep with me.'
"'That's very unfortunate indeed,' said I; 'however, I rejoice that you have so much custom—all's good for trade—at all events, let me eat—let me warm myself—both in the sunshine of those bright eyes, and in the blaze of the parlour fire.'
"Mine hostess proceeded to make me exceedingly comfortable—I ate cold fowl and ham, and drank hot brandy and water, and eventually punch. Mine hostess sipped shrub—a liquor which, if it were liqueur, would rank fathoms above either Curaçao or Maraschino—till at last the clock striking two, reminded her it was time to go to bed.