He was tall and slim, with a large round smooth face and big pale-blue innocent-looking eyes, and he walked rapidly but in a peculiar jerky yet shambling manner, swinging and tossing his legs and arms about.

Moving along in this disjointed manner in his loose fluttering clothes he put one in mind of a big flimsy newspaper blown along the road by the wind.

This unpromising-looking person at once told us that there was a place where we could stay; he knew it well, for it happened to be his father's house and his own home.

It was away at the other end of the village.

His people had given accommodation to strangers before, and would be glad to receive us and make us comfortable.
Surprised, and a little doubtful of our good fortune, I asked my young man if he could explain the fact that so many of his neighbours had assured us that no accommodation was to be had in the village except at the inn.