"Yes," I interrupted, "you are. There is nothing more to be said on this subject. You may go now. You came here to annoy us, knowing that we did not entertain travelers, and now you see what you have made by it," and I opened the door.
The man evidently thought that a reply was not necessary, and he walked out without a word. Taking up his valise, which he had put in the hall, he asked if there was any public-house near by.
"No," I said; "but there is a farm-house a short distance down the road, where they will be glad to have you." And down the road he went to Mrs. Carson's. I am sorry to say that he sold her a "Flora and Fauna" before he went to bed that night.
We were much amused at the termination of this affair, and Ibecame, if possible, a still greater admirer of Euphemia's talents for management. But we both agreed that it would not do to keep up the sign any longer. We could not tell when the irate driver might not pounce down upon us with a customer.
"But I hate to take it down," said Euphemia; "it looks so much like a surrender.""Do not trouble yourself," said I. "I have an idea."The next morning I went down to Danny Carson's little shop,--he was a wheelwright as well as a farmer,--and I got from him two pots of paint--one black and one white--and some brushes. I took down our sign, and painted out the old lettering, and, instead of it, Ipainted, in bold and somewhat regular characters, new names for our tavern.
On one side of the sign I painted:
"SOAP-MAKER'S
AND
BOOK-BINDER'S
HOTEL."
And on the other side:
"UPHOLSTERERS'
AND
DENTISTS'
HOUSE."
"Now then," I said, "I don't believe any of those people will be traveling along the road while we are here, or, at any rate, they won't want to stop."We admired this sign very much, and sat on the piazza, that afternoon, to see how it would strike Bill, as he passed by. It seemed to strike him pretty hard, for he gazed with all his eyes at one side of it, as he approached, and then, as he passed it, he actually pulled up to read the other side.
"All right!" he called out, as he drove off. "All right! All right!"Euphemia didn't like the way he said "all right." It seemed to her, she said, as if he intended to do something which would be all right for him, but not at all so for us. I saw she was nervous about it, for that evening she began to ask me questions about the traveling propensities of soap-makers, upholsterers, and dentists.
"Do not think anything more about that, my dear," I said. "I will take the sign down in the morning. We are here to enjoy ourselves, and not to be worried.""And yet," said she, "it would worry me to think that that driver frightened us into taking down the sign. I tell you what I wish you would do. Paint out those names, and let me make a sign. Then I promise you I will not be worried."The next day, therefore, I took down the sign and painted out my inscriptions. It was a good deal of trouble, for my letters were fresh, but it was a rainy day, and I had plenty of time, and succeeded tolerably well. Then I gave Euphemia the black-paint pot and the ******* of the sign.
I went down to the creek to try a little fishing in wet weather, and when I returned the new sign was done. On one side it read:
FLIES'
AND
WASPS'
HOTEL.
On the other:
HUNDRED-LEGGERS'
AND
RED-ANTS'
HOUSE.
"You see," said euphemia, "if any individuals mentioned thereon apply for accommodation, we can say we are full."This sign hung triumphantly for several days, when one morning, just as we had finished breakfast, we were surprised to hear the stage stop at the door, and before we could go out to see who had arrived, into the room came our own stage-driver, as we used to call him. He had actually left his team to come and see us.
"I just thought I'd stop an' tell ye," said he, "that ef ye don't look out, Bill'll get ye inter trouble. He's bound to git the best o' ye, an' I heared this mornin', at Lowry's, that he's agoin' to bring the county clerk up here to-morrow, to see about yer license fur keepin' a hotel. He says ye keep changin' yer signs, but that don't differ to him, for he kin prove ye've kept travelers overnight, an' ef ye haven't got no license he'll make the county clerk come down on ye heavy, I'm sure o' that, fur I know Bill.
An' so, I thought I'd stop an' tell ye."
I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of the case. Euphemia pondered a moment. Then said she:
"I don't see why we should stay here any longer. It's going to rain again, and our vacation is up to-morrow, anyway. Could you wait a little while, while we pack up?" she said to the driver.
"Oh yes!" he replied. "I kin wait, as well as not. I've only got one passenger, an' he's on top, a-holdin' the horses. He aint in any hurry, I know, an' I'm ahead o' time."In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the house, and were in the stage, and, as we drove away, we cast a last admiring look at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind. Iwould much like to know if it is swinging there yet. I feel certain there has been no lack of custom.
We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we owed her, and engaged her to go up to the tavern and put things in order. She was very sorry we were going, but hoped we would come back again some other summer. We said that it was quite possible that we might do so;but that, next time, we did not think we would try to have a tavern of our own.
