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Mr. Burrower barely noticed when the young hobbit entered the common room. He acknowledged the cold gust of wind with a slight hunch of his shoulders and that was all. But he could not very well ignore the young lady when she came and stood just by his chair, explaining that she had not meant to bring in the cold air. He turned his head and peered up at her.
“Well, why don’t you sit down and join me,” he offered. “You looked fair frozen to bits. Have you come far?”
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“Ah, just as I thought,” Dick said to himself with satisfaction. Two new customers arrived, one after the other, in less than five minutes. He poked his head into the kitchen door and alerted Rowan and Primrose of the news and then returned to the bar where the woman sat.
“What can I get for you today? Something that will warm you up after that nipping wind, maybe? A pot of beer, perhaps? We have the finest you’ll find in a hundred miles!” That may have been an exageration, but it was certainly the finest beer she could find in the Southfarthing.
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