Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-03-03
CHAPTER VIII,

There are few hOstelrteB Of the old fashioned Holly~tree inn pattern left in Merry England, being displaced by great red brick abominations, where a guest is ticketed off like some inmate of 0 splendid penitentiary; but the Nags Head, Q quaint, old-time tavern on the left bank of the Thames, chiefly frequented by artists and fishermen, re. tains all the charms of a last century abode for the weary traveller.
 There Arthur Dunbar betoDk himself when he left John Barlow's hospitable roof.
 His room was Q spacious apartment, charmingly furnished in antique style, with a square four-post bed whose snow-white curtains revealed in spot less purity the lavender-scented sheets. Outside the windows of the apartment was long balcony, up whose tapering pillars woodbine and honeysuckle climbed, ladening the air with their rich perfume-below, the river.
 It was in the gloam of one evening, five days after he had left Willoughby farm, that the young American sat in his pleasant chamber smoking 8 cigar and thus pondering over events with. the listless indifference of one at peace with the world.
 Why had he taken up his habitation at this out-of-the-way place instead of winging his way to the fair cities of Flu rope he had come so far to see? He was trying to answer this question to his own satisfaction. Could 1t be that this blue-eyed English girl, with her lovely face and tender ways, was chain ing him to the spot9 Did he care for her more than he had at first supposed? And, if he did, after her coldness to him on Saturday and Sunday last, was he weak enough to banker after her? All of which conundrums he was obliged to answer in the affirmative Kate Grahame had become, even In the short period of their acquaint- ance, very dear to Him. What a fool he was, to be sure, when there was so lit- tie chance of success; he would break the spell and start of to Paris on Mon day. Meanwhile, If he should chance to meet her in his rambles, he would try and get at the bottom of her real sentiments towards him, without abso- lutely compromising himself. And to- night John Barlow was coming to sup with him on his way back from Chert- 6Cy IudIhCbs AoES AO AAA6 AS 6 ASGA some tidings from him. As for the Frenchman, he was not half bad sort of fellow, but certainly not the kind of man that Kate Grahame would appre- ciate, who doubtless had shown him some civility in trying to escape his own attentions. Had that meddlesome old maid, mademoiselle, been poisoning the girls mind? We'll, he would pump Farmer Barlow and perhaps learn some thing.
 These reflections were broken in upon by the chatter of the hoofs of the farmers cob, and in Ave minutes the two men were grasping hands.
 Supper was laid in the sanded parlor- and a rare, toothsome meal 1t was, pre- pared by the landlady's own hand-and when 1t was over, they adjourned to Arthur's own apartment.
 What shall 1t be, Farmer-wine or spiritsP cigars, of course?" Arthur asked with hospitable intentions.
 'No wine nor spirits for me, young sir; with your permission I'll stick to the brown October ale; an as for cigars, they are only fit for boys an women folk, and read in the papers that great