Having Passed It And Got To The End Of The Village, We Turned
And Walked Back, Still Making Vain Inquiries,
Passing it
again, and when once more at the starting-point we were in
despair when we spied a man
Coming along the middle of the
road and went out to meet him to ask the weary question for
the last time. His appearance was rather odd as he came
towards us on that blowy March evening with dust and straws
flying past and the level sun shining full on him. He
was tall and slim, with a large round smooth face and big
pale-blue innocent-looking eyes, and he walked rapidly but in
a peculiar jerky yet shambling manner, swinging and tossing
his legs and arms about. Moving along in this disjointed
manner in his loose fluttering clothes he put one in mind of
a big flimsy newspaper blown along the road by the wind.
This unpromising-looking person at once told us that there was
a place where we could stay; he knew it well, for it happened
to be his father's house and his own home. It was away at the
other end of the village. His people had given accommodation
to strangers before, and would be glad to receive us and make
us comfortable.
Surprised, and a little doubtful of our good fortune, I asked
my young man if he could explain the fact that so many of his
neighbours had assured us that no accommodation was to be had
in the village except at the inn.
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