First bring me a bottle of sherry and two glasses, then ask him to
step in."
The serving-maid obeyed; and presently there was a heavy step in the
passage, and in strode John Trevethick, a man of sixty years or so, but
straight as a pine, and strong as an oak.
"Your servant, Sir," said he, in a gruff voice, and with no such
inclination of the head as landlords use.
"Good-evening, Mr. Trevethick. I am afraid I'm putting you to some
inconvenience by coming to Gethin so many weeks before the usual time."
"Nay, Sir; my house is open summer and winter."
"Now I wonder is this the natural manner of this boor," thought Richard,
"or has he been already prejudiced against me by the other?--And an
excellent house it is, Mr. Trevethick; I little expected to find so good
a one down here, I promise you."
"Well, I built it myself, Sir," said the landlord; "so it don't become
me to say much of that. It cost me a good bit of money, however; and
it's hard to get it back, when one's season only lasts for a month or
two."
"Ah! I'm the first swallow that you've seen this year, I dare say. Well,
I hope I herald a lucky summer. Take a glass of your own sherry, will
you?"
The landlord looked suspiciously at his guest: perhaps the phrase "your
own sherry" smote his conscience, knowing the price he paid for it, and
what it was, and what he meant to charge; but grunting: "Here's to you,
Sir," he filled his glass, and smacked his lips over it slowly.
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