“It can’t be done,” said he, speaking very positively.  “I’ve orders about that, and there’s no getting round them.”

“It’s got to be done!” said she, “and there’s an end of it!  The clothes won’t be dry until morning, and it won’t do to put them too near the stove, or they’ll shrink so he can’t get them on.  And he can’t go away to hunt up lodgings wearing the Duke’s dressing-gown and them yellow breeches!”

“Orders is orders,” said the man, “and unless I get special leave, it can’t be done.”

“Well, then, go and get special leave,” said she, “and don’t stand there talking about it!”

There was no doubt that my lodging that night was the subject of this conversation, but I had no desire to interfere with the good intentions of my hostess.  I must stay somewhere until my clothes were dry, and I should be glad to stop in my present comfortable quarters.

So I sat still and smoked, and very soon I heard the big shoes of the little man grating upon the gravel as he walked rapidly away from the house.  Now came the good woman out upon the piazza to ask me if I had found my tobacco dry.  “Because if it’s damp,” said she, “my man has some very good ’baccy in his jar.”

I assured her that my pouch had kept dry; and then, as she seemed inclined to talk, I begged her to sit down if she did not mind the pipe.  Down she sat, and steadily she talked.  She congratulated herself on her happy thought to light the hall lamp, or I might never have noticed the house in the darkness, and she would have been sorry enough if I had had to keep on the road for another half-hour in that dreadful rain.

On she talked in the most cheerful and communicative way, until suddenly she rose with a start.  “He’s coming himself, sir!” she said, “with Miss Putney.”

“Who is ’he’?” I asked.

“It’s the master, sir Mr. Putney, and his daughter.  Just stay here where you are, sir, and make yourself comfortable.  I’ll go and speak to them.”

Left to myself, I knocked out my pipe and sat wondering what would happen next.  A thing happened which surprised me very much.  Upon a path which ran in front of the little piazza there appeared two persons—­one, an elderly gentleman, with gray side-whiskers and a pale face, attired in clothes with such an appearance of newness that it might well have been supposed this was the first time he had worn them; the other, a young lady, rather small in stature, but extremely pleasant to look upon.  She had dark hair and large blue eyes; her complexion was rich, and her dress of light silk was wonderfully well shaped.

[Illustration:  “The beauty of her teeth”]

All this I saw at a glance, and immediately afterwards I also perceived that she had most beautiful teeth; for when she beheld me as I rose from my chair and stood in my elevated position before her she could not restrain a laugh; but for this apparent impoliteness I did not blame her at all.