So it came about that, when the “Ring o’ Bells” was masterless, an obscure maiden, who had dwelt there since Mrs. Merle’s demise, found herself possessor of all the money, for Miser Merle left no will. Minnie Merle was his orphaned niece, and when the old man’s unhappy partner shuffled off, he bethought him of this girl. As a relation, lacking friends or position, she would come without wages. So, from the position of domestic servant in a Plymouth tradesman’s family at three pounds a year, Minnie was exalted to be the handmaid of Miser Merle without remuneration of any kind. “A man’s own flesh and blood,” he said, when first she came, “will understand, but I don’t want to poison your regard for me with money, or reduce you to the level of a hireling. You are my niece; you and Nicholas Merle, in the North Country, are all the kindred left to me now that my wife has been taken.” So Minnie settled at the “Ring o’ Bells,” and, being young and healthy, survived conditions that had thrust her aunt untimely into the grave. The old man never trusted his niece again after a day upon which he caught her helping two hungry tramps to bread and cheese, because Minnie’s idea of a pennyworth was far more liberal than Mr. Merle’s; but she stayed at the inn, encouraged to the dreary necessity by local friends, who hinted to her, behind her uncle’s back, that such self-denial must in the long run find itself rewarded. Then the Miser, who would not put on a pair of new boots while an old pair hung together, went through a long day wet-footed, and so received his death-blow. His last conscious utterance was a frantic petition to the medical man from Plymouth, when that worthy told him how all hope was vain. “Then you did ought to take half fees,” he gasped. “As an honest man, so you did; an’ God’s my witness that, if you don’t, I’ll never give you no peace after I’m took!” But the physician had a material soul, feared nothing, and held out for his bond after the patient’s departure. Minnie Merle, now a young woman of three-and-twenty, reigned at the “Ring o’ Bells,” and, with sense scarcely to have been expected from one of such youth and peculiar experience, she did wisely as maiden hostess of the little tavern. Albeit not lavish, she gave better value for money than Mr. Merle had given; the inn grew in popularity with the moor-men; and romance of an exciting nature hung about the place, because many husbands were in the air for Minnie, and as yet she had given no sign that the happy man was chosen. To discuss the subject with the woman herself was not possible for men, but Tibby Trout, an ancient gammer who cooked at the “Ring o’ Bells,” enjoyed the complete confidence of her mistress, and all that Minnie desired to publish she merely murmured into Tibby’s ear. The intelligencer had seventy years of experience behind her, and was considered even more artful than old.