In answer to this call, a bright, brisk-looking young woman, in a neat print gown, stepped forward and confronted Nestley. "He wants," said Job looking from Margery to Nestley, "a bed, summat to eat, a room and a wash;" then, having given all the requisite information he rolled slowly away to attend to the wants of the rustics in the taproom, while, Margery in a voice as sharp as her appearance, invited Nestley to follow her to his room. "Lor, sir," she said shrilly, tripping lightly up the stairs, "if I'd only knowed as you was comin', I'd have got things a bit straight, but father never does tell, father don't." "He didn't know I was coming," replied Nestley as he entered the bedroom and took off his knapsack. "I'm a bird of passage--bring me some hot water." "Yes, sir," replied Margery, pausing with her hand on the handle of the door, "and anything to eat, sir?" "Of course--cold beef, pickles--whatever there is. I'm too hungry to be dainty." "You won't have supper with the other gentleman, sir, will you?" asked Margery, "Mr. Beaumont, sir." "No, no," replied Nestley harshly, a dark shadow crossing his face. "I want to be alone." "Very good, sir," said Margery, rather alarmed at his tone of voice. "I'll bring the hot water, sir--yes, sir." She closed the door after her, and Nestley, sitting down on the bed, gnawed his moustache savagely. "Under the same roof," he growled viciously. "I don't know if I'm wise--pshaw, it doesn't matter, he won't do me any more harm, I've got no money, and Beaumont doesn't care about doing anything for nothing--my poverty is my best shield against him." At this moment Margaret knocked at the door and handed in his hot water, so he postponed his ideas on the subject of Mr. Beaumont while he made himself respectable. Having washed the dust of the road from his face and hands, he brushed his clothes, arranged his hair, and then descended to the parlour of the inn, where he found a plentifully-spread supper-table awaiting him and Margery lighting the lamp.