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Thursday, November 13, 2003
. . . and so it continues
Jack continued walking down that road for most of the day, and presently he came to an inn. The sun was drawing westerly, and Jack decided to stop and see if he couldn’t talk the innkeeper into letting him work for a warm meal and a place to sleep. He had money, true, but why waste it when he had a chance to earn his own meal? If the innkeeper didn’t have work, well and good, and if he did, Jack could save his money for a time when one didn’t.
I have never put much reliance in luck (good or bad), but if you saw the way that Jack tended to journey trustingly through life, you would be forced to believe that he had been endowed with a share of luck bigger then most. Jack was one to keep his word and do his best in everything he did, and he honestly believed in the integrity and goodwill of the people around him. It was a strange thing, but his attitude always seemed to bring out the best in people—no matter how deeply hid.
It just so happened that Jack’s usual good luck was with him that night; the innkeeper’s latest boys had defected, and he was in desperate need of help. Since one of the boys had run off with a lady love and the other had been caught helping himself to a “bonus” of the innkeeper’s silver, Jack decided not only to stay the night, but to stick around and help until the innkeeper could find someone else more permanent.
Jack remained at the inn, and although he was barely a day’s walk from Midsummer, he knew that he was in a place entirely different than that of which he was used to. Each night the inn was filled with laughing, singing people, and while he did have to work—cleaning and carrying for the innkeeper—Jack thoroughly enjoyed his time there.
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