inn-keeper, and led a sad life of it. She was a woman of a lively fancy, and had been in the habit of saying[Pg 36] that if she had been fool enough to get drownded in a pool, she meant to get all the good she could out of the name! So she named her eldest daughter Siloama (pronounced Silo-amy), her second Bethesda, and the son, who came just after her husband had drowned himself in his special pool of whiskey, Heshbon. The neighbours thought this triflin' with Scriptur', and had their own opinion of Ma'am Pool's eccentricities; but the good lady cared little for anybody's opinion; indeed, if she had had any such care, she would not have married Father Pool, whose failings were well known. All that was long ago, however; Father and Mother Pool were gone to their places, the pensive Silo-amy and the fishy Heshbon had followed, and Miss Bethesda was Queen of the Inn.

[Pg 36]

The Inn was the only one in the village. Perhaps there was little need even of this; but it had always been there since the old stage-coach days, when the village was a favourite stopping-place for gay parties of travellers, and when old Gran'ther Pool kept open house, and smiled over his bar on all comers, like a rising sun a little the worse for wear. It was a quaint old house, with a stone veranda in front, and mossy roofs pitching this way and that. Inside was maze upon maze of long, narrow corridors, with queer little rooms opening out of them,—some square, some long; all low of ceiling and wavy of floor, with[Pg 37] curious dolphin-shaped latches, and doors set as if the builder had thrown them at the wall and made the opening wherever they happened to strike. Few of these doors were on a level with the floor; they might be two steps above it, or three steps below; it was a matter of fancy, purely. There was one room that could only be entered through the closet, unless you preferred to get in at the window; but you could easily do that, as it opened on the balcony. Then there was a square chamber containing a trap-door; the Kidderminster carpet fitted the trap perfectly, and it was a dangerous room for strangers to enter. Here the Freemasons used, in old times, to hold their meetings, and carry on their mystic rites. Later, it was the favourite playroom of the Pool children, and they and their playmates were never tired of popping up and down the "Tumplety Hole," as they called it.

[Pg 37]

In the middle of the second story was a long ballroom, where in old days merry dances had been held, and young feet jigged it to the tune of "Money Musk" or "Hull's Victory."

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