It seemed that the man and woman in the middle of the road were the ostler and chambermaid to the inn, who had just been convicted of a grave misdemeanour. The language in which it was designated and described by the host and hostess, energetic in form and warm in colour as it was, could not, I fear, be reproduced in this chaste narrative. It must suffice to say that the guilty persons had been discharged at a moment's notice. They were now resenting this extreme course from their station in the middle of the road; and whatever were the colours in which their own conduct had been depicted, it is greatly to be doubted, whether they could possibly have been more vivid than those applied to that of their late master and mistress. To these people in the midst of their altercation came Cynthia and I. Almost at the same instant a similar thought entered the minds of us both. Why should we not apply for these vacated situations? We had had no experience of such duties, it was true. Our lot indeed would be arduous. But we should at least be provided with a shelter for the night; and we could relinquish our unaccustomed tasks the moment we might feel ourselves better served by doing so. A brief whispered conference as we stood apart in the road, and we decided to make application. Never for an instant did the idea cross our minds that such a highly superior ostler and chambermaid could be anything but acceptable to the good people of the inn. Yet when taking our courage in our hands we came up to the door, and I put forward my suggestion with a becoming modesty, the landlord seemed by no means so eager to close with this tempting offer as I had fully expected he would be. "Have you a character?" says he sharply. "Oh yes, I think I have a very good character," says I. "Humph," says he, "you think you have a very good character, do you? Well, my lad, I should like to see it." "Well," says I, "a character is not very easy to see, unless there is something to show it by." "I am quite aware of that," says the landlord sharply. "However, we will leave this precious pair and go inside, light a candle and look at it." With that, man and wife led the way within, and we followed meekly, leaving the discharged couple in the road to pursue their own devices. In what way a candle would enable them to discern our characters we could not tell, although we were half inclined to think that the common phrase "to hold a candle to" might have in fact a more literal significance than any we had dreamt of. The inn kitchen presented a rosy fire and a cosy appearance. The sight of it seemed to increase the sense of our unhappy plight, and I think we both anxiously awaited the landlord's judgment, for it was impossible to contemplate being turned out into the night again with equanimity. "Now then, my lad," says the landlord, "I will thank you to let me see your character."