'I'm afraid I shall have to put it off to another day, was his remark to
the landlord's daughter. 'Mr. Four-acres is--rather drowsy.'
'Ah, sir!' sighed the young woman. 'I'm sorry to say he's often been like
that lately.'
Their eyes met, but only for an instant. Mr. Ruddiman looked and felt
uncomfortable.
'I'll come again very soon, Miss Fouracres,' he said. 'You might just speak
to your father about the room.'
'Thank you, sir. I will, sir.'
And, with another uneasy glance, which was not returned, the under-master
went his way. Descending towards Longmeadows, he thought over the
innkeeper's story, which may be briefly related. Some ten years before this
Mr. Fouracres occupied a very comfortable position; he was landlord of a
flourishing inn--called an hotel--in a little town of some importance as an
agricultural centre, and seemed perfectly content with the life and the
society natural to a man so circumstanced. His manners were marked by a
certain touch of pompousness, and he liked to dwell upon the excellence of
the entertainment which his house afforded, but these were innocent
characteristics which did not interfere with his reputation as a sensible
and sound man of business.
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