As friends dropped in from time to
time, he informed them that a princess and a duchess were waiting for
their dinner in the small dining room, and followed up the extraordinary
announcement in each case by asking proudly:--
"Show me another tavern this side of Westminster that entertains guests
of like rank. If they were to drop into the Dog's Head, old Robbins would
_drop_ dead. And on what would he serve them? I would wager a jacobus to
a farthing that he hasn't a tablecloth of real linen in his house, and as
for forks, why, he never heard of them. Your fingers and a knife at the
Dog's Head! The Old Swan serves its guests of high rank with five
shilling linen and silver forks. Silver, mind you, hammered from
unalloyed coin by Backwell himself. If any of you happen to be at the
Dog's Head, drop a hint that you saw a princess and a duchess in the
Old Swan's small dining room."
If a guest doubted Pickering's statement concerning the quality of his
guests, he led them to the door of the small dining room, where the
sceptic was relieved of his doubts, for Frances and Nelly looked their
assumed parts convincingly.
Soon after Nelly's dinner had been served, a handsome gentleman entered
the tap-room, sat down at a table, and tapped with his sword-hilt for
service. His doublet and trunks of rich velvet, his broad beaver hat with
its long flowing plume, and his silken hose, had all been elegant in
their good days, but now they were stained, shabby, and almost threadbare
in spots.
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