when one morning, just as we had finished breakfast, we were surprised to hear the stage stop at the door, and, before we could go out to see who had arrived, into the room came our own stage-driver, as we used to call him. He had actually left his team to come and see us.
"I just thought I'd stop an' tell ye," said he, "that ef ye don't look out, Bill 'll get ye inter trouble. He's bound to git the best o' ye, an' I heard this mornin' at Lowry's that he's a-goin' to bring the county clerk up here to-morrow to see about yer licence fur keepin' a hotel. He says ye keep changin' yer signs, but that don't differ to him for he kin prove ye've kept travellers overnight, an' ef ye haven't got no licence, he'll make the county clerk come down on ye heavy, I'm sure o' that, fur I know Bill. An' so I thought I'd stop an' tell ye."
I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of the case. Euphemia pondered a moment. Then said she:
"I don't see why we should stay here any longer. It's going to rain again, and our vacation is up to-morrow, any way. Could you wait a little while, while we pack up?" she said to the driver.
"Oh, yes!" he replied. "I kin wait as well as not. I've only got one passenger, an he's on top, a-holdin' the horses. He ain't in any hurry, I know, an' I'm ahead o' time."
In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the house, and were in the stage, and, as we drove away we cast a last admiring look at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind. I would much like to know if it is swinging there yet. I feel certain there has been no lack of custom.
We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we
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