Crispin! The real things were the blue Bay, the red dogs, the bright sky, the touch of warmth in the sun!
When at last they arrived at the inn, light had come back to her eyes. "I am as hungry as a bear, Merry."
Old Christopher, welcoming them on the threshold, was as ruddy and round as a host should be. At this time of the year he did the cooking and served the guests himself. A helper in the kitchen and a housekeeper to look after the beds and linen formed his retinue. He knew Meriweather well, and Hildegarde. And he had known Hildegarde's mother. He had known the tragedy which had followed her marriage to Louis Carew. Carew had come clandestinely to the inn with Corinne, the woman who was to be his second wife. At such times Christopher had envied the methods of medieval justice which would have permitted poison in the food of such a pair. He had had to see Elizabeth robbed of her radiance. He hoped that Carew would not dim the radiance of Elizabeth's daughter. A man like that was a menace to the happiness of women. He was, indeed, a menace to the happiness of anybody. He took everything and gave nothing.
"Steamed oysters," Christopher advised. "I've got some Hampton Bays fresh this morning from the boats."
While they waited, Meriweather and Hildegarde sat in chairs drawn up to the great fire. The dogs, who had come in with them, flopped on the floor at their feet.
Above the fireplace was a wide shelf, and on the
