“Aye, she’s a nonesuch, there’s not the least doubt about that,” said the innkeeper. “Her bread and her cider are things to remember.” “Things to dream upon, in fact?” “Yes, young man; and if you doubt me you had better try them for yourself.” Now it was here that Gervase affected a lordly indifference, a lofty disdain. “Well, Master Innkeeper, I don’t mind very much if I do,” he said, and his air was almost one of condescension. “You shall do so young man,” said the innkeeper proudly. And in an exceedingly loud voice he addressed some unseen presence within the precincts of the inn kitchen. “Marian, bring out at once one of your newest and largest loaves for a young gentleman in a tarnished doublet of black velvet.” “You have forgotten the cider,” said Gervase, with an air of profound indifference. “A large pot would be the best, I think.” “Also a full pint pot o’ your last year’s cider, Marian.” “And perhaps a little of the cream cheese would not be amiss in the circumstances. It is wise as a rule to make quite sure in a matter of this kind.” “That’s true,” said the innkeeper heartily. “There is nothing betwixt here and Derby that can hold a candle to her cream cheese. Bring out a ripe cream cheese, Marian.” Anne began to tremble with excitement at the mere mention of these viands, but Gervase sat as cool and collected as any man could have done in the circumstances. Presently a crone about seventy years of age brought forth a loaf of bread, a cheese and a jug of cider. She laid them on the bench by the side of Gervase. With much deliberation the young man broke the bread in half and divided the cheese into two portions with his dagger. He handed one share to his companion solemnly. “I ought to tell you, Master Innkeeper,” Gervase explained, “that my sister here is about as good a judge of food as there is to be found in the Midland Counties. Tell me what you think of the cheese, my dear Philomela?” It was as much as ever Anne could do not to appear ravenous. “I think the cheese is splendid,” she said. “Ha! I knew it would be so!” said the landlord. “And what do you think o’ the bread and the cider, you pretty young doxey?” “I have never tasted anything like them,” said Anne. “Ha! I knew it would be so!” said the landlord, with an air of pride that was wonderful. CHAPTER X BY reason of this odd adventure Anne and Gervase were in good heart all the afternoon. Providence had surely taken them in its care. Food was not plenty, their feet were getting very sore, their enemies might be upon them at the next turn in the road, they knew not where that night to lay their heads; but trudging ever side by side in the company of each other they had the spirit of youth to bear them on. Again they took to the winding river-bank. It was kindlier traveling that way. The springing green turf was far easier than the hard stones of the road. Also the dust was less and there were fewer people to avoid.