The rich man who "lives at home at ease," and goes irritated and fretting through the country because he misses at the taverns the luxuries of his own house—who finds the tea bad and coffee worse—the food ill cooked and table ill served—no mattresses, no silver forks—who is obliged to endure the vulgarity of a common parlour—and, in spite of the inward chafing, give a civil answer to whatever questions may be put to him, cannot conceive of the luxuries our travellers enjoyed at the simplest inn.
Uncle Phil found out the little histories of all the wayfarers he met, and frankly told his own. Charlotte's pale sweet face attracted general sympathy. Country people have time for little by-the-way kindnesses; and the landlady and her daughters, and her domestics inquired into Charlotte's malady, suggested remedies, and described similar cases.
The open-hearted communicativeness of our people is often laughed at; but is it not a sign of a blameless life and social spirit?
CHAPTER V.
CHARLOTTE'S RETURN.
On the very day she had appointed before leaving home, Charlotte, by dint of arranging for her father, giving him now a hint and now an impulse, returned there. Susan had opened, swept, and
