Failing to get the landlord to
give me a team to go further, I resigned myself to my fate and a
cigar, behind the red-hot stove. In a few moments one of the
loungers approached me, calling me by name, and in a rough but
hearty fashion condoled with me for my mishap, advised me to stay
at Remus all night, and added: "The quarters ain't the best in the
world yer at this hotel. But thar's an old man yer--the preacher
that was--that for twenty years hez taken in such fellers as you
and lodged 'em free gratis for nothing, and hez been proud to do
it. The old man used to be rich; he ain't so now; sold his big
house on the cross roads, and lives in a little cottage with his
darter right over yan. But ye couldn't do him a better turn than
to go over thar and stay, and if he thought I'd let ye go out o'
Remus without axing ye, he'd give me h-ll. Stop, I'll go with ye."
I might at least call on the old man, and I accompanied my guide
through the still falling snow until we reached a little cottage.
The door opened to my guide's knock, and with the brief and
discomposing introduction, "Yer, ole man, I've brought you one o'
them snow-bound lecturers," he left me on the threshold, as my
host, a kindly-faced, white-haired man of seventy, came forward to
greet me.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256