Much more satisfactory were the conversations between Mr. Ruddiman and his host’s daughter; they were generally concerned with the budget, not of the nation, but of the Pig and Whistle.  Miss Fouracres was a woman of much domestic ability; she knew how to get the maximum of comfort out of small resources.  But for her the inn would have been a wretched little place—­as, indeed, it was before her time.  Miss Fouracres worked hard and prudently.  She had no help; the garden, the poultry, all the cares of house and inn were looked after by her alone—­except, indeed, a few tasks beyond her physical strength, which were disdainfully performed by the landlord.  A pony and cart served chiefly to give Mr. Fouracres an airing when his life of sedentary dignity grew burdensome.  One afternoon, when he had driven to the market town, his daughter and her guest were in the garden together, gathering broad beans and gossiping with much contentment.

‘I wish I could always live here!’ exclaimed Mr. Ruddiman, after standing for a moment with eyes fixed meditatively upon a very large pod which he had just picked.

Miss Fouracres looked at him as if in surprise, her left hand clasping her chin.

‘Ah, you’d soon get tired of it, sir.’

’I shouldn’t!  No, I’m sure I shouldn’t.  I like this life.  It suits me.  I like it a thousand times better than teaching in a school.’

‘That’s your fancy, sir.’

As Miss Fouracres spoke a sound from the house drew her attention; some one had entered the inn.

‘A customer?’ said Mr. Ruddiman.  ‘Let me go and serve him—­do let me!’

‘But you wouldn’t know how, sir.’

’If it’s beer, and that’s most likely, I know well enough.  I’ve watched you so often.  I’ll go and see.’

With the face of a schoolboy he ran into the house, and was absent about ten minutes.  Then he reappeared, chinking coppers in his hand and laughing gleefully.

’A cyclist!  Pint of half-and-half!  I served him as if I’d done nothing else all my life.’

Miss Fouracres looked at him with wonder and admiration.  She did not laugh; demonstrative mirth was not one of her characteristics; but for a long time there dwelt upon her good, plain countenance a half-smile of placid contentment.  When they went in together, Mr. Ruddiman begged her to teach him all the mysteries of the bar, and his request was willingly granted.  In this way they amused themselves until the return of the landlord, who, as soon as he had stabled his pony, called Mr. Ruddiman aside, and said in a hoarse whisper—­

‘The Prince comes to-morrow!’

‘Ha! does he?’ was the answer, in a tone of feigned interest.

’I shall see him.  It’s all settled.  I’ve made friends with one of the gardeners at Woodbury Manor, and he’s promised to put me in the way of meeting His Royal Highness.  I shall have to go over there for a day or two, and stay in Woodbury, to be on the spot when the chance offers.’