Sleep had long held its reign in Fallowfield.  Nevertheless, Mr. Raikes, though blind windows alone looked on him, and nought foreign was to be imputed to him in the matter of pride, had become exceedingly solicitous concerning his presentation to the inhabitants of that quiet little country town; and while Evan and—­the waggoner consulted the former with regard to the chances of procuring beds and supper, the latter as to his prospect of beer and a comfortable riddance of the feminine burden weighing on them all—­Mr. Raikes was engaged in persuading his hat to assume something of the gentlemanly polish of its youth, and might have been observed now and then furtively catching up a leg to be dusted.  Ere the wheels of the waggon stopped he had gained that ease of mind which the knowledge that you have done all a man may do and circumstances warrant, establishes.  Capacities conscious of their limits may repose even proudly when they reach them; and, if Mr. Raikes had not quite the air of one come out of a bandbox, he at least proved to the discerning intelligence that he knew what sort of manner befitted that happy occasion, and was enabled by the pains he had taken to glance with a challenge at the sign of the hostelry, under which they were now ranked, and from which, though the hour was late, and Fallowfield a singularly somnolent little town, there issued signs of life approaching to festivity.

CHAPTER XI

DOINGS AT AN INN

What every traveller sighs to find, was palatably furnished by the Green Dragon of Fallowfield—­a famous inn, and a constellation for wandering coachmen.  There pleasant smiles seasoned plenty, and the bill was gilded in a manner unknown to our days.  Whoso drank of the ale of the Green Dragon kept in his memory a place apart for it.  The secret, that to give a warm welcome is the breath of life to an inn, was one the Green Dragon boasted, even then, not to share with many Red Lions, or Cocks of the Morning, or Kings’ Heads, or other fabulous monsters; and as if to show that when you are in the right track you are sure to be seconded, there was a friend of the Green Dragon, who, on a particular night of the year, caused its renown to enlarge to the dimensions of a miracle.  But that, for the moment, is my secret.

Evan and Jack were met in the passage by a chambermaid.  Before either of them could speak, she had turned and fled, with the words: 

‘More coming!’ which, with the addition of ‘My goodness me!’ were echoed by the hostess in her recess.  Hurried directions seemed to be consequent, and then the hostess sallied out, and said, with a curtsey: 

‘Please to step in, gentlemen.  This is the room, tonight.’

Evan lifted his hat; and bowing, requested to know whether they could have a supper and beds.

‘Beds, Sir!’ cried the hostess.  ’What am I to do for beds!  Yes, beds indeed you may have, but bed-rooms—­if you ask for them, it really is more than I can supply you with.  I have given up my own.  I sleep with my maid Jane to-night.’