"Oh, Sammy," sighed she reproachfully. "You been a-drinkin' again--shame on ye to go a-frightin' an' a-scarin' this poor child. Go an' put your wicked 'ead under the pump this instant, you bad boy. As for you, my pore lamb, never 'eed 'im; 'e bean't so bad when 'e's sober. Come your ways along o' me, dearie." And folding me within one robust arm she brought me into that room that was half bar and half kitchen. "There!" she exclaimed, leading me to the great settle beside the fire. "Sit ye there, my lamb, and never mind nobody. Lor'! You be a-shiverin' an' shakin' like a little asp, I declare. Poor child!" sighed she, gustily commiserate, and patting my head with her great plump hand. "Pore little soul--never mind, then!" "Madam," said I, somewhat overwhelmed by her solicitude, "I am not so very--so extreme youthful as you deem me." "Ain't you, lovey?" "Indeed, no! I am nineteen." "Nineteen, dearie--lor', an' you s' small an' all--" "I am five feet three--almost!" "Are ye, dearie--lor'! But then I'm s' big, most other folks seems small to me--'specially men--men is all children--'specially my man. Which do mind me. Sammy," she called, "go into the wash'us an' let Susie pump on ye. Susie, jest you pump water on your master's 'ead--this moment." "Yes, ma'm!" And presently sure enough, from somewhere adjacent rose the clank of a pump to the accompaniment of much splashing and gasping. "That'll do, Susie!" "Yes, ma'm." "Now you, Sammy, go an' lie down--this moment. 'E'll be all right arter this, dearie. Susie!" "Yes, ma'm." "Go light a fire for this young genelman in Number Four. This moment." "Yes, ma'm." "The best chamber but one, dearie. And a feather bed!" All this as she bustled to and fro, and very quietly despite her size, while I sat gazing into the fire and hearkening to the patter of rain on the windows and the wind that howled dismally without and rumbled in the wide chimney so that I must needs wonder how it fared with the travellers and if I should ever see either of them again. "You look very lonesome, dearie!" remarked the landlady at last, with a large wooden spoon in her hand. "Can I get ye anythink? A drop o' kind rum or nice brandy--or say a glass o' purl--a drop o' purl took warm would be very comfortin' for your little inside." "Thank you--no!" said I, a little shortly. "But if you could oblige me with pen, ink and paper, I should be grateful." "Why, for sure, though I'm afraid the pen's broke." "I'll cut another." "Ye see there ain't much writin' done 'ere, 'cept by me with my B-e-t-y for Betty and S-a-m-i-e for Samuel." So saying, she presently set out the articles in question; then, having made shift to cut and trim a new point to the quill, I wrote as follows: