BEGGARS OX HORSEBACK. 41 



inner life not subordinate to hotel routine, and we 

 roamed solitary in their midst. The big, panelled 

 bath-room, where before dinner I simmered off 

 the faticrues of the ride, had the stale discourasred 

 air of a room that has been left severely to itself. 

 Its breath was heavy with suggestions of the 

 wearing apparel that lined its shelves and hung 

 in decaying grandeur on pegs on the door, and 

 in the bath itself lay a pair of baby's boots, thick, 

 knitted ones, evidently forgotten there since winter. 

 Miss O'Flannigan's wardrobe contained an interest- 

 ing selection of walking-sticks, fishing-tackle, razors, 

 ties of the class known as "Jemima,"' and finally, 

 in a separate compartment, innumerable pairs of 

 socks. They belonged to ]\Ir Willy Griffith, the 

 chambermaid explained, with the manner of one 

 who disarms all objections in advance. He stayed 

 at the hotel very often for fishing. She made 

 the same reply when I commented, not unkindly, 

 on the presence of several dozen pairs of socks 

 and six well-greased fishing-boots in my chest 

 of drawers. We did not venture to argue the 



