Earlier in the day a cart had driven through loaded up with the
gowns of the town dignitaries, "going to Leicester to be done up,"
explained the host, delighted with his own shrewdness.
A hunger-bitten traveller with a good dinner in front of him commonly
pays no attention for the time being to anything else. I found two men in
the guest-room, and, after a civil greeting, which made one of them open
his eyes and mouth very uncivilly, I sat down to eat, very content with
the fare set before me.
As my hunger steadily abated before a steady attack on a cold roast
sirloin of most commendable quality, I began to take more interest in the
two men. In fact, more interest in them was forced on me by the beginnings
of a pretty quarrel between them, and by the time I had got to the cheese,
they, utterly regardless of my presence, were at it hammer and tongs. The
row was about a horse-deal lately passed between them, and there are few
things men can quarrel about more easily or more vigorously. The yokel who
had gaped at me, had been cheated by his companion, and was accordingly
resentful.
Two men more at odds in outward appearance could not easily have been
found.
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