They found it at last--the inn--with its bunch of holly for a sign. It
looked a forlorn place, for travellers did not usually stop over night
in this small, unimportant village; but the comedians were not in a
mood to be fastidious, and would have been thankful for even a more
unpromising house of entertainment than this one. It was all shut up
for the night, with not a sign of life to be seen, so the tyrant applied
himself diligently to pounding on the door with his big fists, until
the sound of footsteps within, descending the stairs, showed that he had
succeeded in rousing somebody. A ray of light shone through the cracks
in the rickety old door, then it was cautiously opened just a little,
and an aged, withered crone, striving to protect the flame of her
flaring candle from the wind with one skinny hand, and to hold the rags
of her most extraordinary undress together with the other, peered out at
them curiously. She was evidently just as she had turned out of her bed,
and a more revolting, witch-like old hag it would be hard to find; but
she bade the belated travellers enter, with a horrible grimace that was
intended for a smile, throwing the door wide open, and telling them
they were welcome to her house as she led the way into the kitchen.
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