I believe she is the very queerest of them all. The Swedes here call her Laughing Mary.”
The two dark figures slipped out of sight around a corner and Hugh went up the steps into the hotel. The big, untidy room was apparently empty except for a bluebottle fly buzzing against the window. A faint snore, however, made Hugh aware that he was not alone and drew his attention to the office clerk, sitting behind the high desk, his head back, his heels up, sound asleep. The men outside had ceased talking, the entire village was so quiet that Hugh could actually hear a katydid singing its last summer song loudly and manfully down in the field.
“I never saw such a town before,” he thought bitterly, “the whole place is either dead or asleep!”
He rapped sharply on the desk to arouse the clerk and was delighted to see him awake with a guilty jump.
“Can you tell me where I can find—” he began, but a voice at his elbow interrupted him.
