This room, with its wonderful wall-paper, representing the Carnival at Rome, and its curious clock, was an object of wonder to the whole village; and strangers or visitors were pretty sure to present themselves at the Inn door, sometimes begging to be taken in for a few days, sometimes merely asking the[Pg 38] privilege of going over the quaint old house. The reception of these visitors was apparently a matter of caprice with the Lady of the Inn; one never could tell how she would take it. Sometimes an eager statement that "We heard of your beautiful house, and we have driven over from South Tupham, ten miles, on purpose to see it!" would be met by the monosyllable "Have!" delivered in Miss Bethesda's mildest tone, and the door would be softly but firmly shut in the travellers' faces. Or the visitor might try another tack, and begin with the bold assumption that the Inn was a place of public entertainment, and that man and beast were welcome there, as a matter of course.

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"I should like two bedrooms and a sitting-room, please! And will you send someone to look out for my horses? And—I should like supper, something hot, as soon as convenient!" To which Miss Bethesda might reply, "Should you?" and smile, and again shut the door.

But there were other times when something in the asking face or voice touched one knew not what chord in the good lady's breast. On these occasions she could be very gracious, and would say, perhaps, that she really didn't know, she didn't take boarders—mebbe—just this once—if't would accommodate—she didn't know—but she might compass it somehow, and the door would be opened wide; and, once[Pg 39] inside, the guest was sure to be made so comfortable that he was loth to go away again.

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The fact was, that being clothed with means, as they say in the village, the Lady of the Inn felt that it was merely a matter of personal fancy, the taking in of guests, and that if she were not in the mood for visitors there was no manner of reason why she should be bothered with them.

She had one servant, a grim elder, by name Ira Goodwin. The spiteful people before alluded to said that Ira—or Iry, to give the name its actual pronunciation—and his mistress never spoke to each other, but communicated by means of signs. That could not be true, however, for Mrs. Peake, next door, had been shaking a carpet in her yard one day, close by the fence, and had heard Iry say, in a growling manner, "Guess I can hold my tongue as well as others!" To which Miss 

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