Can't possibly take you in to-night." We picked up our things, and went over to the Manor House.

It was a pretty little place.

I said I thought I should like it better than the other house; and Harris said, "Oh, yes," it would be all right, and we needn't look at the man with the red hair; besides, the poor fellow couldn't help having red hair.
Harris spoke quite kindly and sensibly about it.
The people at the Manor House did not wait to hear us talk.

The landlady met us on the doorstep with the greeting that we were the fourteenth party she had turned away within the last hour and a half.

As for our meek suggestions of stables, billiard-room, or coal-cellars, she laughed them all to scorn: all these nooks had been snatched up long ago.
Did she know of any place in the whole village where we could get shelter for the night?
"Well, if we didn't mind roughing it--she did not recommend it, mind--but there was a little beershop half a mile down the Eton road--" We waited to hear no more; we caught up the hamper and the bags, and the coats and rugs, and parcels, and ran.