'A bad night!' observed the hostess cheerfully.
The traveller shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and said it was,
rather.
'There's a fire in the kitchen,' said Mrs Lupin, 'and very good company
there. Hadn't you better go and dry yourself?'
'No, thankee,' said the man, glancing towards the kitchen as he spoke;
he seemed to know the way.
'It's enough to give you your death of cold,' observed the hostess.
'I don't take my death easy,' returned the traveller; 'or I should most
likely have took it afore to-night. Your health, ma'am!'
Mrs Lupin thanked him; but in the act of lifting the tankard to his
mouth, he changed his mind, and put it down again. Throwing his body
back, and looking about him stiffly, as a man does who is wrapped up,
and has his hat low down over his eyes, he said:
'What do you call this house? Not the Dragon, do you?'
Mrs Lupin complacently made answer, 'Yes, the Dragon.'
'Why, then, you've got a sort of a relation of mine here, ma'am,' said
the traveller; 'a young man of the name of Tapley. What! Mark, my boy!'
apostrophizing the premises, 'have I come upon you at last, old buck!'
This was touching Mrs Lupin on a tender point.
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