This the landlady of the Break of Day chirpingly explained, calling between whiles, 'Hola, my husband!' out at the side door.
My husband answered at length, 'It is I, my wife!' and presenting himself in his cook's cap, lighted the traveller up a steep and narrow staircase; the traveller carrying his own cloak and knapsack, and bidding the landlady good night with a complimentary reference to the pleasure of seeing her again to-morrow.

It was a large room, with a rough splintery floor, unplastered rafters overhead, and two bedsteads on opposite sides.

Here 'my husband' put down the candle he carried, and with a sidelong look at his guest stooping over his knapsack, gruffly gave him the instruction, 'The bed to the right!' and left him to his repose.

The landlord, whether he was a good or a bad physiognomist, had fully made up his mind that the guest was an ill-looking fellow.
The guest looked contemptuously at the clean coarse bedding prepared for him, and, sitting down on the rush chair at the bedside, drew his money out of his pocket, and told it over in his hand.

'One must eat,' he muttered to himself, 'but by Heaven I must eat at the cost of some other man to-morrow!' As he sat pondering, and mechanically weighing his money in his palm, the deep breathing of the traveller in the other bed fell so regularly upon his hearing that it attracted his eyes in that direction.