Free The Smile of the Stranger by Joan Aiken

available in the place—it turned out to be a small hamlet of half a dozen houses named Burley Heath — loaded up his consignment of goods, and, after a hasty farewell, had departed at speed for Southampton, recommending that Juliana and her father should rack up for the night at the village inn.
    “I am obliged to be in Brighton by tomorrow if I can arrange it, but the old gentleman would do well not to travel further at this hour.”
    Juliana could only agree, and as they were assured that the chaise would be back by the following morning, and they might have the use of it next day, she was relieved to see her father comfortably established in a warm bed, with a basin of soup, at the Fox and Grapes. She herself was so tired, cold, and stiff that she was soon happy to follow his example and retire to bed, although it was some time before she was able to sleep. Despite the fact that she lay on a soft feather mattress, under a sloping cottage roof, she still seemed to feel the lurch and sway of the balloon ’ s basket as it bore them across the sky, and, looking up, she expected to discover the innumerable stars still above her.
    On the following day Mr. Elphinstone was feverish and weak; his features seemed to have sharpened in the course of the journey, and his eyes had sunk back in their sockets. He was frighteningly pale, and his hands shook badly; Juliana was divided between a certainty that he should not be allowed to leave his couch, and the knowledge that nothing would satisfy him but to be once more within the confines of his own home.
    “Come—make haste—let us be on our way!” he urged as soon as Juliana had eaten a morsel of bread and butter and drunk a little coffee—he himself would touch nothing but cold water. “My bones ache to be at home—I shall not be comfortable until we are at Flintwood. Old Mrs. Hurdle will look after me there; I daresay she will soon put me to rights with one of her possets.”
    Juliana devoutly hoped that old Mrs. Hurdle—whom she took to be the housekeeper —was still presiding in her grandfather ’ s house.
    Fortunately for the pair, Herr Welcker, although he had been in such haste to be off on the previous evening, had taken time to consider their welfare.
    “Reckon you won ’ t have any English money about you, miss, hey?” he had inquired as he stood superintending the transfer of his cargo from the balloon into the chaise. “And in a little hamlet like this they won ’ t thank you for French louis or Italian lire; different if you ’ d landed at a port where there ’ d be a changing house. Best let me loan you a few guineas—a — a—now don ’ t come missish over me again, I beg!” as Juliana began to protest. “Don ’ t forget, you pulled me out of a scrape, for which I ’ m vastly obliged, as I value my skin highly. Pish, what ’ s a handful of coins? Bless you, where I ’ m going, Prinney would fill one of these to the brim with gold guineas, if I asked him”—and he flourished one of the Sevres pots.
    Realizing that her scruples were indeed absurd, Juliana had accepted the loan, promising to repay it as soon as she was established at her grandfather ’ s.
    “No need, my dear—but still—if you insist—very well, then! Adieu! And thanks for the pleasure of your company — convey my best respects to your papa—” he bowed and sprang into the chaise, with surprising agility, considering the long, hard twenty-four hours he had just undergone.
    Thanks to him, therefore, they were provided with funds to pay their shot at the inn and hire the chaise in which, immediately after breakfast, they set off once more. They were a bedraggled-looking pair. Without nightwear or toilet articles, Juliana had been obliged to sleep in her shift and borrow a comb from the landlady to bring some order into her tangled curls. Her old brown worsted dress and pelisse were damp and travel-stained from the journey. She was divided between anxiety for her father,