Flight and Pursuit

"You must excuse me for asking so many questions, farmer; but when I
see a father and daughter together, like you and your girl, I think of
myself, for I have an only daughter of my own. All the rest of my
children--and I had a whole passel of boys and girls--are with their
dear mother in heaven. So you see, farmer, I am a widower, with one gal
like yourself--for I reckon, from what you said, you are a widower?"

"My girl's mother has been dead many years," answered Lyon, with a drawl
and a sigh.

"Pappy, I'm so hungry and so sleepy I don't know what to do," said
Sybil, in a low, fretful tone, frowning and pouting.

"Yes, yes, honey; I reckon you are sure enough. So landlord, if you have
got a couple of little rooms joining onto each other, I wish you'd let
us have 'em. And we'd like a bit of supper besides," said Lyon Berners,
with a sigh and a grunt.

"To be sure. I'll go and call my girl directly, and she'll walk up to
your rooms while I have the supper got ready. Where would you like to
have it? down here, or in your room?" inquired the landlord.

"In your room, Pappy. I hate a place like this a-smellin' of liquor and
inyuns and things, and men coming in and out," said Sybil, digging her
elbow into her "Pappy's" ribs, and turning up her nose at the little
tavern sitting-room.

"Well, then, honey, we'll have it up there. Up there, landlord, if it
won't be putting of you to too much trouble."