He had never been kicked, he had
never driven a race or been hurled from a sulky at full speed.
Prince, that ancient palfrey, was the most harmless of all
creatures, and would long since have been put out of misery but for
the tender consideration of his owners. And Tunk--well, they used
to say of him, that if he had been truthful, he couldn't have been
alive.
"Sometime," Trove thought, "his folly may bring confusion upon wise
heads."
XVII
An Event in the Rustic Museum
Sidney Trove sat talking a while with Miss Letitia. Miss S'mantha,
unable longer to bear the unusual strain of danger and publicity,
went away to bed soon after supper. Tunk Hosely came in with a
candle about nine.
"Wal, mister," said he, "you ready t' go t' bed?"
"I am," said Trove, and followed him to the cold hospitality of the
spare room, a place of peril but beautifully clean. There was a
neat rag carpet on the floor, immaculate tidies on the bureau and
wash table, and a spotless quilt of patchwork on the bed. But,
like the dungeon of mediaeval times, it was a place for sighs and
reflection, not for rest. Half an inch of frost on every
window-pane glistened in the dim light of the candle.
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