After ten minutes or a quarter of an hour a little tavern by the wayside was reached, named the Hare and Hounds; and then Anthony Cleverdon laid his hand on the bit of the horse Urith rode. "My cob must bait here," he said--"at least, have a mouthful; so must you. I will go in and see what can be provided, and bid the landlady lay the table." "I thank you," said Urith; "but I desire to go home at once. The distance is in no way considerable. I know where I am. But surely I hear my uncle's voice." That individual appeared at the open door. He was a stout man, with a very red face and a watery eye. His wig was awry. He stood with a pipe in one hand and a tankard in the other. "Aha!" shouted Solomon Gibbs. "I said the truth! I knew that it was in vain for me to go in quest of you on the moors, niece. Told your mother so; but she wouldn't believe me. Come on--come, and let's be jolly--drive away dull melancholy! I knew that you must come on to the road somewhere; and, if on to the road, then to the inn. For what is the inn, my boys, but the very focus and acme to which all gather, and from which all radiate? Come in--come in." "I wish to push on," said Urith. "How can you without my cob?" asked Anthony roughly. "I have said--she baits here. You, also--you must be perishing for food. We all are; have been mum all the way home--no fun, no talking. So, come in." "That is right--urge her, young man, to follow the advice of age and experience," shouted Mr. Gibbs. Then he began to sing: Come my lads, let us be jolly, Drive away dull melancholy, For to grieve it is a folly When we're met together. So, my friends, let us agree, Always keep good company, Why should we not merry, merry be When we're met together? He brandished his tobacco-pipe over his head, in so doing striking his wig with the stem, and at once breaking the latter, and thrusting the wig over his ear, and then dived into the alehouse again. He was half tipsy. "You are right," said Elizabeth to Urith. "You must go on. Your mother is anxious, probably in a state of serious alarm." "My uncle's horse is in the stable, I doubt not," answered Urith, "and as he will not be disposed to leave till he be unfit to accompany me, I will borrow the horse, and send it back by a servant." "I will accompany you," said Elizabeth, "and the serving man that brings back the horse can accompany me. The distance is inconsiderable, yet you must not at night travel it alone. Fox and Julian have, I see, turned their horses' heads homewards without bidding us a farewell. I cannot stay outside whilst Anthony is within, and I do not care to enter when men are drinking." "Your brother will hardly leave you alone outside." "My brother will probably forget all about me when he gets with Mr. Gibbs and others who can sing a good song and tell a merry tale."