nd carried it out to the sign-post in the front of the
house. It was raining, gently, during these performances, but we had on
our old clothes, and were so much interested in our work that we did not
care for a little rain. I carried the sign to the post, and then, at the
imminent risk of breaking my neck, I hung it on its appropriate hooks on
the transverse beam of the sign-post. Now our tavern was really what it
pretended to be. We gazed on the sign with admiration and content.

"Do you think we had better keep it up all the time?" I asked of my
wife.

"Certainly," said she. "It's a part of the house. The place isn't
complete without it."

"But suppose some one should come along and want to be entertained?"

"But no one will. And if people do come, I'll take care of the soldiers
and sailors, if you will attend to the farmers and mechanics."

I consented to this, and we went in-doors to prepare dinner.

CHAPTER XVIII. OUR TAVERN.

The next day was clear again, and we rambled in the woods until the sun
was nearly down, and so were late about supper. We were just taking
our seats at the table when we heard a footstep on the front porch.
Instantly the same thought came into each of our minds.

"I do believe," said Euphemia, "that's somebody who has mistaken this
for a tavern. I wonder whether it's a soldier or a farmer or a sailor;
but you had better go and see."

I went to see, prompted to move quickly by the new-comer pounding his
cane on the bare floor of the hall. I found him standing just inside
of the front door. He was a small man, with long hair and beard, and
dressed in a suit of clothes of a remarkable color,--something of the
hue of faded snuff. He had a big stick, and carried a large flat valise
in one hand.

He bowed to me very politely.

"Can I stop here to-night?" he asked, taking off his hat, as my wife put
her head out of the kitchen-door.

"Why,--no, sir," I said. "This is not a tavern."

"Not a tavern!" he exclaimed. "I don't understand that. You have a sign
out."

"That is true," I said; "but that is only for fun, so to speak. We are
here temporarily, and we put up that sign just to please ourselves."

"That is pretty poor fun for me," said the man. "I am very tired, and
more hungry than tired. Couldn't you let me have a little supper at any
rate?"

Euphemia glanced at me. I nodded.

"You are welcome to some supper," she said, "Come in! We eat in the
kitchen because it is mo