"I used to spell pretty well once," she said brightly; "but the brewing and the scouring and the looking after other things have knocked all that out of me." "You wrote to me finely when I was away," her husband said. He was a quiet fellow, and proud of his little wife, and liked people to know how capable she was. "Ah, but you aren’t over-particular, Ben, bless you," she answered, laughing, and running away to her many duties. Then she returned to tell Hieronymus that there was a splendid fire in the kitchen, and that he was to go and sit there. "I’m busy doing the washing in the back-yard," she said. "Ben has gone to look after the sheep. Perhaps you’ll give an eye to the door, and serve out the ale. It would help me mighty. I’m rather pressed for time to-day. We shall brew to-morrow, and I must get the washing done this afternoon." She took it for granted that he would obey, and of course he did. He transferred himself, his pipe, and his book to the front kitchen, and prepared for customers. Hieronymus Howard had once been an ambitious man, but never before had he been seized by such an overwhelming aspiration as now possessed him--to serve out the Green Dragon ale! "If only some one would come!" he said to himself scores of times. No one came. Hieronymus, becoming impatient, sprang up from his chair and gazed anxiously out of the window, just in time to see three men stroll into the opposite inn. "Confound them!" he cried; "why don’t they come here?" The next moment four riders stopped at the rival public-house, and old Mrs. Howells hurried out to them, as though to prevent any possibility of them slipping across to the other side of the road. This was almost more than Hieronymus could bear quietly. He could scarcely refrain from opening the Green Dragon door and advertising in a loud voice the manifold virtues of Mrs. Benbow’s ale and spirits. But he recollected in time that even wayside inns have their fixed code of etiquette, and that nothing remained for him but to possess his soul in patience. He was rewarded; in a few minutes a procession of wagons filed slowly past the Green Dragon; he counted ten horses and five men. Would they stop? Hieronymus waited in breathless excitement. Yes, they did stop, and four of the drivers came into the kitchen. "Where is the fifth?" asked Hieronymus sharply, having a keen eye to business. "He is minding the horses," they answered, looking at him curiously. But they seemed to take it for granted that he was there to serve them, and they leaned back luxuriously in the great oak settle, while Hieronymus poured out the beer, and received in exchange some grimy coppers. After they had gone the fifth man came to have his share of the refreshments; and then followed a long pause, which seemed to Hieronymus like whole centuries.