'E's as 'armless as they makes 'em, an' I've told 'im as 'ow ye' don't take in nowt but 'spectable folk.

Doant 'ee turn out an old gaffer like 'e be, fagged an' footsore, to sleep in open--doant 'ee now, there's a good soul!" Miss Tranter went on knitting rapidly.

Presently she turned her piercing gimlet grey eyes on Helmsley.
"Where do you come from, man ?" she demanded.
Helmsley lifted his hat with the gentle courtesy habitual to him.
"From Bristol, ma'am." "Tramping it ?" "Yes." "Where are you going ?" "To Cornwall." "That's a long way and a hard road," commented Miss Tranter; "You'll never get there!" Helmsley gave a slight deprecatory gesture, but said nothing.
Miss Tranter eyed him more keenly.
"Are you hungry ?" He smiled.
"Not very!" "That means you're half-starved without knowing it," she said decisively.

"Go in yonder," and she pointed with one of her knitting needles to the room beyond the bar whence the hum of male voices proceeded.

"I'll send you some hot soup with plenty of stewed meat and bread in it.