Adams is my name," replied the landlord.
"And mine is Willoughby--Col. Willoughby. "And the Englishman bowed
with a slight air of condescension.
"I am at your service, Col. Willoughby," said the landlord in his
blunt way. "Just say what you want, and the thing is done."
"A cup of tea will serve me to-night, my friend. Let it be good and
strong; for my head is a little unsettled with this throbbing pain.
That stage coach of yours would be something better for a pair of
new springs."
"It's seen service, and no mistake. But people in these parts don't
calculate much on easy riding. Springs are no great account. We look
to the main chance."
"What is that?"
"Getting over the ground."
The traveler smiled to himself in a quiet way, as if the landlord's
answer had touched some memory or experience.
Nothing further being remarked, Mr. Adams retired to order a cup of
tea for his guest. Something about the Englishman had stimulated his
curiosity; and, so, instead of sending the cup of tea by his wife,
who did most of the waiting, he carried it to the room himself.
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