v1] THE RED BARON. 293

 

and awaited the return of the strange individual with
whom he had just made acquaintance. True to his
word, the latter was gone but a very few minutes, and
when he re-entered the room, it was with a tray which
he carefully deposited upon the table before he took
his seat. Upon the tray was a gigantic pasty of ap-
petising appearance to the hungry traveller, and, more
than the pasty, there was an addition to the supper
which made his eyes gleam with pleasure. Not one,
but four bottles of the old madeira stood side by side
together, the cobwebs still clinging to them with
affectionate tenacity, and their appearance giving every
promise of internal goodness.

‘You're a regular brick, I declare!’ cried the
traveller as the little red man arranged the tray com-
fortably upon the table.

‘Ah!’ replied the other, ‘that is just what my
poor old friend Smith (he was from England, too, as
I see you are) used to say—let me see—just two
hundred and thirteen years ago come next Lady-day,
when he died.’

‘What sort of a chap was /e when he was at home?’
asked the traveller carelessly, as he watched his com-
panion, who had now taken up a large silver-handled
knife and a fork of similar description, and was pro-
ceeding to cut a large slice out of the dish before him.

‘IT don’t know what he may have been at home,’
said he, ‘but he was a right good fellow out here, and
would have married my daughter—-only he didn’t.’

‘Why not?’ demanded the other.

‘Ah!’ said the little red man, ‘that’s a long story,
and perhaps you wouldn't care to hear it. Have some
pasty?’