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you are a stranger in these parts, but
not for long. No indeed. Jim!”
    Jim, whom it must be assumed was the
long-suffering Mr. V, shuffled into view, as tall and thin as his wife was
short and squat, with a remarkably rotund steampig following him.
    “You called?”
    “Here are our new visitors, Jim, but
we have not yet done the necessaries, introductions, and so on. I am being
remiss, you must come inside for refreshments and Jim can bind your wound
properly, young man. Isn’t that so, Jim? But your animals need to stay outside
with the horses. You can tether them there. No, no, there. There! Yes, that’s
it. Now in, in. Into the Inn.” She laughed at her own joke. Lucretia
stared at Al and Freddie, mouth agape.
     
    *
     
    “The steampig, Mr. V, did you build
it?”
    “It is a he, young feller me lad, and
no, I did not.” Mr. V took a long draw on his pipe and looked at Al though
half-closed eyes. “No,” he continued, blowing a perfect smoke square.
“Mr. Trotters lived up at the castle, but one day he made his way down to
us here and hasn’t gone back. He’s good company, I’ll give him that. Gobbles
down wood at an alarming rate, mind you. Has his own pipe, too. Figured that
was a better way of him blowing off excess steam rather than it coming from,”
Mr. V motioned him close and whispered, “his nether regions.”
    “Ah, I see. Quite.” Al sat back.
    Mrs. V stopped pouring tea mid-stream, the
pot held motionless in her hand.
    “Jim! Was that you using a bad term in
our house? For shame! And us with guests, what on earth will they think? For
shame!”
    The much beleaguered Jim lowered his head
and Al patted him on the arm in sympathy. The old fellow looked up and winked
at him.
    “Perhaps you would be of a mind to
come and have a look at Mr. Trotters’ workings?”
    “I would like that very much. I am an
inventor myself.”
    “Well, that’s capital, just capital.
Mrs. V! Mr. H here is an inventor.”
    “That’s nice, dear.”
    “He is going to come and look at Mr.
Trotters with me, if we could be excused, my dear?”
    “Of course.” She shooed them out
of the door. “I will keep Mr. H and Ms. H company. Now,” she said as
she beamed at them conspiratorially, “where were we?”
     
    *
     
    For once, Lucretia blessed Freddie’s innate
ability to bore the undergarments off someone. Mrs. V certainly appeared to be
asleep, chin on her ample chest, eyelids fluttering.
    Lucretia quietly pushed her chair back,
motioning for Freddie to do the same. They made it to the door, and he took the
knob in his hand and turned, whereupon it screeched mightily and Mrs. V sprang
from slumber into wakefulness.
    “Oh, leaving so soon? Have some more
cake. You hardly touched yours Ms. H.”
    Lucretia looked at the slab of cake on her
plate, so ossified that it had more than likely been baked in the last century.
    “Please don’t trouble yourself, I find
my stomach a little unsettled after our ride from Bath,” she lied.
    “You poor dear. Can’t abide travel
myself. What about you Mr. H? I see you cleared your plate, could I interest
you in another slice? And another cup of tea? Ah, go on. You will.”
    “No, no, Mrs. V. I too will decline.
Something appears to have dislodged my tooth…”
     
    *
     
    “We seem to have picked up a stray,”
Lucretia announced, looking over her shoulder.
    “No, Mr. V said that Mr. Trotters
would show us where our house is. Seems he likes to poke around the bushes
there,” said Al. “Decent chap that, actually, don’t know how he lives
with his wife.”
    “Or her cooking! Freddie lost a tooth
eating her cake.”
    Al sniggered.
    “Now that’s not nice, think of your
brother’s misfortune.”
    Al sniggered.
    “Al!”
    He guffawed. “I’m sorry, Freddie,
about your tooth I mean. It’s just nice for a change that someone else is
suffering rather than me.”
    “How is your head, Al?” Freddie, felt
rather generous for asking.
    “It thuds somewhat, but we are