"It's no use being too particular, girls," said Lancy, as they rose from the table, and re-entered the parlor, "we will not be here but a day or two, you know." "Well, but surely we can find some other place to stay in while we are here. We don't want to appear at Mrs. Fremont's with our clothes smelling like a bar-room!" said Dexie, rather sharply. "Well, no doubt the next hotel will suit us better," and a few minutes later they entered its door. But it was quite evident, even to Lancy, that they had not bettered their condition by going farther. The house had probably been very popular the day before, and there was an air of confusion about the place that added its unpleasantness to the atmosphere that must be breathed by those that sought the hospitality of the house. Elsie looked timidly around the parlor as she entered, as if expecting to see the ghosts of those who had offered up so much incense; but the room was vacant, all having departed, leaving behind a disagreeable reminder of their presence. "We are just as badly off as ever," Elsie whispered timidly to Dexie. "It is not very much better, is it, Dexie?" "No, I should say not. The very curtains are full of it. How can people bear it! Tobacco-smoke and rum! Do let us get out of here, Lancy, before anyone comes in!" "Hush, Dexie! Someone will hear you." "No danger! but do let us run before they see us here." "But we must stay somewhere, Dexie," said Lancy. "What shall we do?" Dexie felt provoked at their unpleasant position, and she replied in no gentle tone. "Do! Well, I think if nothing better is to be obtained in the town, we will do as some of our ancient ancestors have done before us, we will 'lodge without, in the streets,'" and gathering up the wraps she walked out of the house, closely followed by Elsie, and more uncertainly by Lancy. The case was becoming serious, but it had its ludicrous side as well, which reached its height when Dexie stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Throwing the wraps over her left arm, she raised her right hand high toward heaven, and exclaimed in dramatic tones: "Tell me, ye wingèd winds, that round my pathway roam, Is there no hotel in Truro where the landlord sells no rum?" And the answer came, not from the winds she had apostrophized, but from an open window that she had not observed; and the answer was: "Fair lady, there is none." "There! I told you that someone would hear you, Dexie," said Lancy, vexed, yet amused at her behavior. But Dexie stood as if unable to move, and gazed at the open window in astonishment. But the owner of the voice now appeared at the door, and Dexie drew a sigh of relief as she saw what a good-natured, smiling face it was that looked into her own. He never belonged to that house, she felt sure, though it was nothing to his credit to be lounging inside its doors. However, it was not likely he would consider her remarks as personal, so she slowly regained her composure.