“Your guests’ names?” reiterates the small gentleman, as, followed by the cortège of dame, maid, man, dog, cat, and tame magpie, the coach comes to a halt within excellent range of Her Ladyship’s coign of vantage and earshot. “I must know them before I alight.” “Well, My Lord, there’s Mr. Bigge, the Curate from Risley Commons, as stops over here on his way to Finchley every week; Mr. Blunt, the traveling tailor; His Grace the Duke of Courtleigh’s own man, off on his holiday; Mr. Townes and his new married wife a-goin’ to settle in the lodge at the Manor-house; a young spark drabbled with mud and havin’ no boxes and no servants, what arrived by means of a market cart just anon, and Sir Percy de Bohun, a fine gentleman what’s just ridden in the yard before Your Lordship’s coach, but”— “Who?” The little gentleman turned green in his pallor, and shot back in his cushions with a gasp. “Not much of any account, My Lord, I’m thinking, since Jenny here tells me he sups at the ordinary; of course Your Lordship’ll be served in your own sitting-room and dame and myself to humbly wait upon you.” “Hold your tongue!” says the little man, gathering his scattered wits and pausing to think, while his steeds paw noisily on the cobble pavement. Peggy, at the pane, almost laughs as she regards the shrinking weazened visage. “Sir Robert McTart!” she says to herself, shaking her head at the little vixen. “’Tis indeed a merry fate that puts me and Percy and you all under one roof this night. That is, if his presence don’t fright you into a gallop!” Sir Percy himself, also for a second standing moodily at his casement, could and did behold thence Sir Robin’s restive and hungry leaders, and had a passing wonder as to what the devil brought any gentleman to stop at such an inn, save as himself, by the misfortune of a nail in his animal’s foot. Sir Robin, however, with that discretion and prudence, not to say cowardice, which distinguished him, had purposely chosen the Queen and Artichoke, for, upon second thought, he had determined to sleep in comfort. Sir Robin loved his feathers and quilts of a night far better than the jolt of ruts and ditches, and dreaded highwaymen more than even the pangs of delayed love-making. By his choice he had hoped to escape the least chance of an encounter with Sir Percy, whom he believed to be in hot pursuit of him, and at this juncture his wise little pate quickly resolved that it were better for him to alight, gain his chamber, and harbor there in safety until such time as that Sir Percy should have unsuspectingly proceeded on his quest. “If you can ensure me a perfect privacy; to go unseen to my rooms, a fair service, and dry linen, with quiet as to cocks and neighbors, I will remain here for the present,” says Sir Robin, almost taking in Lady Peggy by the squint of his uncontrollable left eye.