They went into the roadside inn together, along the passage, past the bar window, and into the tap-room, where two or three rough-looking fellows were drinking beer. Dibble sat down, and the dog slunk away into a corner under a long seat with a high back, called a “settle.” One of the men, a little fellow with a fur cap on his head, and a brown velvet jacket on his back, evidently noticed the dog, for he smiled and winked at another fellow, who sat opposite to him. “There’ll be some fun jest now,” said the little man, looking at Dibble, who called for a pint of ale. Several other people came in at this moment, three women amongst the rest. Most of them had bundles, and the men all wore caps and shabby coats; the women wore shawls and showy ribbons, and spoke in a hoarse, foggy style, and reminded Dibble of the women he remembered presiding over nut-stalls and shooting galleries at the Gloucestershire fairs when he was a boy. Whilst he was drinking his beer the window at the back was darkened with several show-houses, caravans, and ricketty canvas-covered carts, which were coming into the yard for the night, and then Dibble knew that he was amongst show people. He ventured to ask an old man, who sat next to him, and who was engaged in spinning a penny in a peculiar way, and twitching it up his sleeve, if there was a fair coming off. “Severntown races,” said the man, continuing his occupation, and evincing a desire not to be interrupted. “Oh!” said Dibble, looking round, and taking stock of his new acquaintances. Several of them, he saw, had bundles like himself, and all of them produced something to eat. Bread and sausages, bread and herrings, bread and cheese, bread and onions, bread and black-pudding, bread and tripe; and bread and many other things were exhumed from those mysterious bundles, and from deep greasy pockets. The edibles were demolished along with beer, and gin-and-water, and porter, and cider, and other liquors, which a thick-fisted waiter brought in, amidst much talking and some swearing. All this time the little man in the velvet coat kept careful watch over Dibble and the dog; and by-and-by, when the man who had been spinning the penny went out with a person in an overcoat and tights (who had been standing on his head in the villages through which he passed, and doing other funny tricks upon a square piece of carpet), the little man went and sat beside Dibble, at whom he nodded pleasantly, and for whose especial behoof he tapped a nose somewhat flattened by hard usage and dirty weather. “I forgives yer, old gal, I forgives yer,” he said, directing one eye towards the dog’s hiding-place, and winking at Dibble with the other. Whereupon the dog came forth, rubbed his bony sides against Dibble’s legs, and licked the porter’s dusty boots. “Oh, this is the gent whose bin keind to yer,--eh, Mistress Momus?” said the man, nodding pleasantly to Dibble. The dog gave a short bark, and rubbed herself once more against Dibble.