"There! let the ostler take it; he's got nothing to do." "No, mother.

The ostler's dirty hands mustn't touch it--I'll take the letter myself.

Perhaps I may see Miss Henley." Such was the impression which Mr.Hugh Mountjoy had innocently produced on a sensitive young person, condemned by destiny to the barren sphere of action afforded by a country inn! The landlady herself took the dinner upstairs--a first course of mutton chops and potatoes, cooked to a degree of imperfection only attained in an English kitchen.

The sour French wine was still on the good woman's mind.

"What would you choose to drink, sir ?" she asked.