st eyes.

"But, Mr. Trelyon," said Wenna, looking round, "hadn't we better turn?
We shall be at Trevenna directly."

"Yes, you are quite right," said Master Harry: "you will be at
Trevenna directly, and you are likely to be there for some time. For
Mabyn and I have resolved to have luncheon there, and we are going
down to Tintagel, and we shall most likely climb to King Arthur's
Castle. Have you any objections?"

Wenna had none. The drive through the cool and bright day had braced
up her spirits. She was glad to know that everything looked promising
about this scheme of hers. So she willingly surrendered herself to
the holiday, and in due time they drove into the odd and remote little
village and pulled up in front of the inn.

So soon as the hostler had come to the horses' heads the young
gentleman who had been driving jumped down and assisted his three
companions to alight: then he led the way into the inn. In the doorway
stood a stranger, probably a commercial traveler, who, with his hands
in his pockets, his legs apart and a cigar in his mouth, had been
visiting those three ladies with a very hearty stare as they got out
of the carriage. Moreover, when they came to the doorway he did not
budge an inch nor did he take his cigar from his mouth; and so, as it
had never been Mr. Trelyon's fashion to sidle past any one, that young
gentleman made straight for the middle of the passage, keeping
his shoulders very square. The consequence was a collision. The
imperturbable person with his hands in his pockets was sent staggering
against the wall, while his cigar dropped on the stone. "What the
devil--!" he was beginning to say, when Trelyon got the three women
past him and into the small parlor. Then he went back: "Did you wish
to speak to me, sir? No, you didn't: I perceive you are a prudent
person. Next time ladies pass you, you'd better take your cigar out of
your mouth or somebody'll destroy that two-pennyworth of tobacco for
you. Good-morning."

Then he returned to the little parlor, to which a waitress had been
summoned: "Now, Jinny, pull yourself together and let's have something
nice for luncheon--in an hour's time, sharp. You will, won't you? And
how about that Sillery with the blue star--not the stuff with the gold
head that some abandoned ruffian in Plymouth brews in his back garden.
Well, can't you speak?"

"Yes, sir," said the bewildered maid.

"That's a good thing--a very good thing," said he, putting