He was not dressed like an ordinary hotel attendant, but his appearance was decent, and he might have been a sub-clerk or a head hall-boy.
"Can I obtain lodging here for the night ?" I asked.
The boy looked at me from head to foot, and an expression such as might be produced by too much lemon juice came upon his face.
"No," said he; "we don't take cyclers." This reception was something novel to me, who had cycled over thousands of miles, and I was not at all inclined to accept it at the hands of the boy.

I stepped into the hall.

"Can I see the master of this house ?" said I.
"There ain't none," he answered, gruffly.
"Well, then, I want to see whoever is in charge." He looked as if he were about to say that he was in charge, but he had no opportunity for such impertinence.

A female figure came into the hall and advanced towards me.

She stopped in an attitude of interrogation.
"I was just inquiring," I said, with a bow--for I saw that the new-comer was not a servant--"if I could be accommodated here for the night, but the boy informed me that cyclers are not received here." "What!" she exclaimed, and turned as if she would speak to the boy, but he had vanished.