"
"How far is the village?"
"Three-quarters of a mile by the road, half a mile by the path through
the wood. But, bless you, sir, if the lovers were to come they'd get
their refreshment out o' kisses and not trouble my ale."
"What do you call this place?"
"'The Jolly Farmers,' sir, and I'm called Tom Saunders, very much at
your service."
"A poor spot for an inn, surely?" said Rosmore.
"There are better, and there are worse," was the answer. "We're in touch
with the main road, and they are good enough to say that the
entertainment is worth going a little out of the way for."
"No doubt. We will judge for ourselves."
"And, although I blush to mention it, folks have a kind of liking for
Tom Saunders himself. It's often the landlord that makes the inn."
If the landlord blushed, it made no appreciable difference to his rosy
countenance, which grinned good-humouredly as he executed Lord Rosmore's
orders.
"Truly, it is good liquor," said Rosmore when he had sampled it. "Do you
get good company to come out of their way to taste it?"
"Ay, sir, at times, and a few soldiers lately. You and your two men here
will be from the West, very like.
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