"So 'tis, my peony, so 'tis! A main ugly night for daffodils and young brides. Is her chamber ready?" he went on. "Aye! Aye!" "Wi' rosy curtains drawn close?" Mrs. Tabrum nodded. "Wi' candlelight and the cracking of logs and green bayleaves in the presses?" "Why, do'ee think I'm gone daft to forget suchlike?" "And a vase of daffodils by her mirrour?" the ancient one persisted. Polly Patch came in at that moment. "All be ready, mistress," she said in a slow voice, solemnly nodding her enormous mobcap while she spoke. "Now Polly," said Mrs. Tabrum, "lend a hand wi' this table and lets put 'un a thought nearer to the fire. Ugh! how it blows!" A vivid flash of lightning illuminated the room, and on the heels of a terrifick roar of thunder there was a cry of 'House! House!' "Hurry, hurry, my daisies, and make who comes there welcome. Jacob! Jacob!" cried the old landlord as, much excited, he rose from his seat in the ingle and quavered towards the taproom. "You are sure the candles are lighted, Polly?" "Sarten, mistress." "And the logs burning brightly?" "'Ess mistress." "And the curtains pinned together?" "'Ess mistress." "Then stand by the door, curtsey when you're spoken to, and don't put your thumb in the soup." "No, mistress." "Is Mary Maria watching the fowls?" "Wi' both her eyes, mistress." "Hark!" "I'm harking away, mistress." And while the mistress and the maid harked vigilantly the ancient landlord ushered Miss Phyllida Courteen into the Travellers' Room of the _Basket of Roses_ Inn. As he entered, old Tabrum looked very much like a sexton leading a shy maid to the altar. She, flustered, expectant, murmured soft thanks into the farthest recesses of her swansdown muff, stumbled frequently to the voluble distress of her guide, and seemed afraid to look round the well-ordered comfortable room after so many miles of wind and driving rain. "Dear soul! And where's the bridegroom?" exclaimed Mrs. Tabrum, as she led Phyllida to a high-backed chair right before the heart of the blazing fire. Phyllida blushed as she explained Mr. Amor was travelling on horseback. "Indeed, I expected to find him here," she stammered, "Oh! I hope nothing has happened to him." "Now, don't 'ee fret thyself, sweet marjoram," said the ancient one, humming round her like a bee. "A'most anything might have happened to him on such a dreadful night." "Don't 'ee hark to the ancient dodderer," interrupted the dodderer's wife. "Killed by a falling tree, withered to a cinder by bloody lightning." "You alarm me," exclaimed Phyllida, jumping up. "Hold thy ancient foolish tongue," commanded Mrs. Tabrum peremptorily, "and go see that Mary Maria keeps the fowls turning a while yet." "Very well, my gillyflower, very well," piped senility, "but don't 'ee take on, my little blue love-in-a-mist, happen 'tis no more than a broken leg has overtook your husband."