The Inn at the Red Oak | Page 4

"I was afraid--to-night," she said, after a moment's silence.
Suddenly there came the sound of a tremendous knocking on the door
which opened from the bar into the outer porch, and all three started in
momentary alarm.
Dan jumped to his feet. "Who's that?" he cried.
Again came the vigorous knocking. He ran across the room, let down
the great oaken beam, and opened the door to the night and storm.
"Come in, travellers." A gust of wind and sleet rushed through the
opening and stung their faces. With the gust there seemed to blow in
the figure of a little old man wrapped in a great black coat, bouncing
into their midst as if he were an India rubber ball thrown by a gigantic
hand. Behind him strode in Manners, the liveryman of Monday Port.
"Here's a guest for you, Mr. Frost. I confess I did my best to keep him
in town till morning, but nothing 'd do; he must get to the Inn at the
Red Oak to-night. We had a hellish time getting here too, begging the
lady's pardon; but here we are."
Good-naturedly he had taken hold of his fare and, as he spoke, was
helping the stranger unwrap himself from the enveloping cloak.
"He's welcome," said Dan. "Here, sir, let me help you." He put out his
hand to steady the curious old gentleman, who, at last, gasping for
breath and blinking the sleet out of his eyes, had been unrolled by
Manners from the dripping cloak.
He was a strange figure of a man, they thought, as Dan led him to the
fire to thaw himself out. He was scarcely more than five and a half feet
in height, with tiny hands and feet almost out of proportion even to his
diminutive size. He was an old man, they would have said, though his
movements were quick and agile as if he were set up on springs. His
face, small, sharp-featured and weazened, was seamed with a thousand

wrinkles. His wig was awry, its powder, washed out by the melting
sleet, was dripping on his face in pasty streaks; and from beneath it had
fallen wisps of thin grey hair, which plastered themselves against his
temples and forehead. This last feature was also out of proportion to the
rest of his physiognomy, for it was of extraordinary height, and of a
polished smoothness, in strange contrast to his wrinkled cheeks.
Beneath shone two flashing black eyes, with the fire of youth in them,
for all he seemed so old. The lower part of his face was less distinctive.
He had a small, Suddenly there came the sound of a tremendous
knocking on the door which opened from the bar into the outer porch,
and all three started in momentary alarm.
Dan jumped to his feet. "Who's that?" he cried.
Again came the vigorous knocking. He ran across the room, let down
the great oaken beam, and opened the door to the night and storm.
"Come in, travellers." A gust of wind and sleet rushed through the
opening and stung their faces. With the gust there seemed to blow in
the figure of a little old man wrapped in a great black coat, bouncing
into their midst as if he were an India rubber ball thrown by a gigantic
hand. Behind him strode in Manners, the liveryman of Monday Port.
"Here's a guest for you, Mr. Frost. I confess I did my best to keep him
in town till morning, but nothing'd do; he must get to the Inn at the Red
Oak to-night. We had a hellish time getting here too, begging the lady's
pardon; but here we are."
Good-naturedly he had taken hold of his fare and, as he spoke, was
helping the stranger unwrap himself from the enveloping cloak.
"He's welcome," said Dan. "Here, sir, let me sharply-pointed nose; a
weak mouth, half-hidden by drooping white moustaches; and a small
sharp chin, accentuated by a white beard nattily trimmed to a point. He
was dressed entirely in black; a flowing coat of French cut, black small
clothes, black stockings and boots that reached to the calves of his little
legs. These boots were ornamented with great silver buckles, and about
his neck and wrists showed bedraggled bits of yellowed lace."

He stood before the fire, speechless still; standing first on one foot then
on the other; rubbing his hands the while as he held them to the grateful
warmth.
Nancy had in the meanwhile drawn a glass of rum, and now advancing
held it toward him a little gingerly. He took it eagerly and drained it at
a gulp.
"Merci, ma petite ange; merci, messieurs" he exclaimed at last; and
then added in distinct, though somewhat strongly accented English, "I
ask your pardon.