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It seemed to Al that the hobbit lady was making fun of every part of him that she knew. This succeeded in making him even more morose and irritated. At least she didn’t see how I wiped the floor! Al drank his beer, and had to acknowledge it as the finest that he had ever tasted. That cheered him up a little, but he was still fuming.
“Now where’s my manners!” So very kind of her to remember! She looks like she’ll actually search the room for them! Al just restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
She introduced herself, and continued with a faint hint of curiosity in her voice, “Now, I know The Perch has got the finest ale in the Eastfarthing . . . but what brings such a fine looking lad from the grand Brandy Hall here to this little place. Must seem kind of back-woodsy and a little, well, slow…” Al found himself at loss of what to say. Granny Greenhill hit it right on when she mentioned the beer, and a little more so with her remark about Stock’s rustiness compared to his home. It would not be nice to admit so, especially right in front of Mr. Boffin. He couldn’t think of a good story either: Al wasn’t prepared for such a direct question, with no way of going around it. More so because she didn’t ask; she just said it as a fact!
“Well…” he begun, somewhat lamely, “Er… Why not? Some quiet life never hurt anyone…” Al knew that his explanation didn’t sound convincing, especially because he himself didn’t believe it. To cover his confusion, he continued on quickly. “I’m just staying here for a few days, on my way to Tookbank. I am going for a visit to my family there.” Al drunk the rest of his ale in one big gulp. He noticed that Ganny Greenhill still didn’t really thank him.
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