Haypotten was still in short pants, had never worked properly, but since the inn’s fireplaces never went dark, its rooms never went particularly cold.
The electricity might flicker and the hot water heating system, bought by the previous owners off an itinerant salesman when Mr. The Haypottens might run out of provisions eventually, but they had not kept this inn and tavern on the Skidwrack for a quarter of a century and more without seeing a flood or two, and they were well prepared for the whims of the river and the rain. Haypotten, the innkeeper, announced supper in half an hour he apologized for the state of the meals and the flickering lights, but without real worry. They passed the day much as they had passed the day before, and the day before that. But the bellowing man calling for eggs and burnt toast meant that, for another day at least, fifteen people would remain prisoners of the river Skidwrack, and the new rivers that had once been roads, and the rain. Perhaps today, their unnatural captivity would end. This, at least, is what Captain Frost said when he tramped indoors, coated in the yellow mud peculiar to that part of the city, before hollering for his breakfast. The rain had not stopped for a week, and the roads that led to the inn were little better than rivers of muck. ICLE (International Center for Leadership in Education)Ĭustomer Service & Technical Support Portal Into Algebra 1, Geometry, Algebra 2, 8-12 Science & Engineering Leveled Readers, K-5
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