Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

393 страница из 895

It was a low cattle-shed kind of place, with benches down the walls and at either end.

On the opposite corners were two small tables, fitted with mugs and pipes.

A portly individual in a white apron filled up the doorway as Peace arrived in front of the old village inn, in the front of which was a horse-trough, a large chestnut tree, and a post bearing at its top the sign of the house.

“Good day, friend,” said Peace to the host of the “Carved Lion.” “I’m wearied and footsore, and crave a little rest and refreshment.”

“Both are at your service, neighbour,” returned the landlord, making way for the newcomer by withdrawing into the bar.

Peace entered the parlour, and in a few minutes a mug of ale, together with some cold meat and pickles, were served him, which he devoured with evident relish.

Meanwhile those in the skittle ground were busily occupied.

“Come on, lads, another ge-ame!” cried a lusty, young fellow, with his sleeves rolled up to his shoulder. “Come on, mates, one more. Ye doant mean to say ye ha don yet.”


Правообладателям