[Illustration:  “The young lady who keeps the bar”]

While I was thinking of these things I was looking out of the window at the lady in the dogcart who was holding the reins.  She was as pretty as a picture, and wore a great straw hat with lovely flowers in it.  As I had to give an answer without waiting for Jone to come home, and I didn’t expect him until luncheon time, I concluded to be neighborly, and said we would take the gentleman to oblige her.  Even if the arrangement didn’t suit him or us, it wouldn’t matter much for that little time.  At which Mrs. Locky was very grateful indeed, and said she would have Mr. Poplington’s luggage sent around that afternoon, and that he would come later.

As she got up to go I said to her, “Is that young lady out there one of the party who came with the coach and four?”

“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Locky, “she lives with me.  She is the young lady who keeps the bar.”

I expect I opened my mouth and eyes pretty wide, for I was never so astonished.  A young lady like that keeping the bar!  But I didn’t want Mrs. Locky to know how much I was surprised, and so I said nothing about it.

When they had gone and I had stood looking after them for about a minute, I remembered I hadn’t asked whether Mr. Poplington would want to take his meals here, or whether he would go to the inn for them.  To be sure, she only asked me to lodge him, but as the inn is more than half a mile from here, he may want to be boarded.  But this will have to be found out when he comes, and when Jone comes home it will have to be found out what he thinks about my taking a lodger while he’s out taking a walk.

Letter Number Six

CHEDCOMBE, SOMERSETSHIRE

When Jone came home and I told him a gentleman was coming to live with us, he thought at first I was joking; and when he found out that I meant what I said he looked very blue, and stood with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, considering.

“He’s not going to take his meals here, is he?”

“I don’t think he expects that,” I said, “for Mrs. Locky only spoke of lodging.”

“Oh, well,” said Jone, looking as if his clouds was clearing off a little, “I don’t suppose it will matter to us if that room is occupied over Sunday, but I think the next time I go out for a stroll I’ll take you with me.”

I didn’t go out that afternoon, and sat on pins and needles until half-past five o’clock.  Jone wanted me to walk with him, but I wouldn’t do it, because I didn’t want our lodger to come here and be received by Miss Pondar.  At half-past five there came a cart with the gentleman’s luggage, as they call it here, and I was glad Jone wasn’t at home.  There was an enormous leather portmanteau which looked as if it had been dragged by a boy too short to lift it from the ground, half over the world; a hat-box, also of leather, but not so draggy looking; a bundle of canes and umbrellas, a leather dressing-case, and a flat, round bathing-tub.  I had the things taken up to the room as quickly as I could, for if Jone had seen them he’d think the gentleman was going to bring his family with him.