Page:Hopkinson Smith--armchair at the inn.djvu/285

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hall flanked by two bedroom doors. The first was mine—and so was the candle which he now placed in my hand—and ‘will your Excellency be careful to see that it is properly blown out before your Excellency falls asleep?’ and so I bade him good-night, pushed in the door, held the sputtering candle high above my head, and began to look around.

“It wouldn’t have filled your soul with joy. Had I not been tired out with my day’s work I would have called him back, read the riot act, and made him move in some comforts. The only things which could be considered furniture were a heavy oaken chest and a solid wooden bed—a box of a bed with a filling of feathers supporting two hard pillows. And that was every blessed thing the room contained except a toy pitcher and basin decorating the top of the chest; a white cotton curtain stretched across the lower sash of the single window; a nail for my towel, a row of wooden pegs for my clothes, and a square of looking-glass which once had the measles. Not a chair of any kind, no table, no wash-stand. This was a place in which to sleep, not sit nor idle in. Off with your clothes and into bed—and no growling.