It was nine o’clock and still broad daylight when Mr. Poplington himself came, carrying a fishing-rod put up in parts in a canvas bag, a fish-basket, and a small valise.  He wore leather leggings and was about sixty years old, but a wonderful good walker.  I thought, when I saw him coming, that he had no rheumatism whatever, but I found out afterward that he had a little in one of his arms.  He had white hair and white side-whiskers and a fine red face, which made me think of a strawberry partly covered with Devonshire clotted cream.  Jone and I was sitting in the summer-house, he smoking his pipe, and we both went to meet the gentleman.  He had a bluff way of speaking, and said he was much obliged to us for taking him in; and after saying that it was a warm evening, a thing which I hadn’t noticed, he asked to be shown to his room.  I sent Hannah with him, and then Jone and I went back to the summer-house.

I didn’t know exactly why, but I wasn’t in as good spirits as I had been, and when Jone spoke he didn’t make me feel any better.

[Illustration:  “I see signs of weakening in the social boom”]

“It seems to me,” said he, “that I see signs of weakening in the social boom.  That man considers us exactly as we considered our lodging-house keeper in London.  Now, it doesn’t strike me that that sample person you was talking about, who is a cross between a rich farmer and a poor gentleman, would go into the lodging-house business.”  I couldn’t help agreeing with Jone, and I didn’t like it a bit.  The gentleman hadn’t said anything or done anything that was out of the way, but there was a benignant loftiness about him which grated on the inmost fibres of my soul.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said I, turning sharp on Jone, “we won’t charge him a cent.  That’ll take him down, and show him what we are.  We’ll give him the room as a favor to Mrs. Locky, considering her in the light of a neighbor and one who sent us a cucumber.”

“All right,” said Jone, “I like that way of arranging the business.  Up goes the social boom again!”

Just as we was going up to bed Miss Pondar came to me and said that the gentleman had called down to her and asked if he could have a new-laid egg for his breakfast, and she asked if she should send Hannah early in the morning to see if she could get a perfectly fresh egg from one of the cottages.  “I thought, ma’am, that perhaps you might object to buying things on Sunday.”

“I do,” I said.  “Does that Mr. Poplington expect to have his breakfast here?  I only took him to lodge.”

“Oh, ma’am,” said Miss Pondar, “they always takes their breakfasts where they has their rooms.  Dinner and luncheon is different, and he may expect to go to the inn for them.”

“Indeed!” said I.  “I think he may, and if he breakfasts here he can take what we’ve got.  If the eggs are not fresh enough for him he can try to get along with some bacon.  He can’t expect that to be fresh.”