I looked again more narrowly at the face of my villanous friend, and the result of my investigations was to answer with great decision, “Thank you, I have got enough china jugs for to-day—_quite_ enough.” He tried to insist, till I found it expedient to lose my temper, telling him to go about his business and leave me in peace. He did leave me in peace, but only indirectly, for we saw him soon after speaking to a gypsy woman, who presently began to dog our footsteps in the same manner, trying to induce me to go into this or that one of the more disreputable-looking houses. By this time I was thoroughly tired out. Any one who has had like experience will know how fatiguing it is to go into twenty or thirty houses in succession, with the invariable stereotyped questions, “Have you any jugs? and will you sell them?” and then to repeat over and over again the self-same process of persuasion and bargaining. Besides this, I had risen early, had a long walk, and was very hungry, so naturally wanted a quiet spot to sit down and eat my sandwiches. “There must surely be a village inn where we can get a glass of milk,” I said, turning round to our persistent follower. “There, there,” said the woman, pointing in advance, and she disappeared running down the street. We had no difficulty in finding the inn, as indicated by the usual sign all over Austria—a bunch of wood-shavings hung over the door-way. I was about to enter the room, when my German servant suddenly drew back and pulled my dress. “Come away, come away, madam,” she whispered; “it is not safe to go in there,” and as soon as we had regained the road and shaken ourselves clear of some loungers outside who tried to persuade us to re-enter, she explained the cause of her terror: she had caught sight of that same man who had asked to see the watch hiding behind the pothouse door, and evidently lying in wait for us. This looked serious, and it was evident that some sort of trap was being laid for my unfortunate watch, so I resolved that nothing in the world should induce me to enter any such suspicious-looking house. My maid was nearly crying with fright by this time, and shaking like an aspen leaf, so I kindly advised her not to be a fool, pointing out that there was really no cause for alarm after all. “We need not enter any house unless we like, and they will hardly think of murdering us in the open street, so do not make a fuss about nothing.” “It is not for myself, but on account of the _gnädige frau_, that I am frightened,” the girl now explained, apparently stung by the insinuation of cowardice. “If anything should happen to you, madam, what will the master say to me when I go home alone? He will say it was all my fault!” “Make your mind quite easy,” I said (perhaps rather cruelly, as it now strikes me). “If they should cut my throat to get the watch, they will for a certainty cut yours as well to prevent you telling tales of them, so you will never reach home to be scolded.”