A supremely quaint instance of this gift of accommodation befell during that same holiday, which should not pass unrecorded, but which I offer to the Reader with an emphatic Honi soit qui mal y pense.  Despairing of reaching a certain large manufacturing town on foot in time to put up there, one evening, he was doing the last mile or two by rail, and, as the train slackened speed he turned to his companions in the carriage to enquire if they could tell him of a good hotel.  He had but carelessly noticed them before:  an old man, a slight young woman of perhaps thirty, and a girl about fifteen; working people, evidently, but marked by that air of cleanly poverty which in some seems but a touch of ascetic refinement.  The young woman at once mentioned The Bull, and thereupon a little embarrassed consultation in undertone seemed to pass between her and the old man, resulting in a timid question as to whether Narcissus would mind putting up with them, as they were poor folk, and could well do with any little he cared to offer for his accommodation.  There was something of a sad winningness in the woman which had predisposed him to the group, and without hesitation he at once accepted, and soon was walking with them to their home, through streets echoing with Lancashire ‘clogs.’  On the way he learnt the circumstances of his companions.  The young woman was a widow, and the girl her daughter.  Both worked through the day at one of the great cotton mills, while the old man, father and grandfather, stayed at home and ‘fended’ for them.  Thus they managed to live in a comfort which, though straitened, did not deny them such an occasional holiday as to-day had been, or the old man the comfort of tobacco.  The home was very small, but clean and sweet; and it was not long before they were all sat down together over a tea of wholesome bread and butter and eggs, in the preparation of which it seemed odd to see the old man taking his share.  That over, he and Narcissus sat to smoke and talk of the neighbouring countryside; N. on the look-out for folk-lore, and especially for any signs in his companion of a lingering loyalty of belief in the traditions thereabout, a loyalty which had something in it of a sacred duty to him in those days.  Those were the days when he still turned to the east a-Sundays, and went out in the early morning, with Herrick under his arm, to gather May-dew, with a great uplifting of the spirit, in what indeed was a very real act of worship.

But to my story!  As bedtime approached Narcissus could not but be aware of a growing uneasiness in the manner of the young woman.  At last it was explained.  With blushing effort she stammered out the question:  Would he object to share his bed with—­the old man?  ‘Of course not,’ answered N. at once, as though he had all the time intended doing that very thing, and indeed, thought it the most delightful arrangement in the world.

So up to bed go the oddly consorted pair.  But the delicious climax was yet to come.  On entering the room, Narcissus found that there were two beds there!  Why should we leave that other bed empty?—­he had almost asked; but a laughing wonder shot through him, and he stopped in time.