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Falco was slightly taken aback by young Camille's proposal, but charmed by her frank, intelligent manner of speaking. She had a way of thinking and talking like an older hobbit, but she still retained the simplicity and sweetness of a child. Oh, yes, he was indeed charmed. All remnants of his former ill mood were vanquished, and he smiled at her.
"A very admirable proposal," he said. "As it happens I am very fussy about the cleanliness of my clothes, and I was worried of how I was to keep them fresh and bright. The rain has dirtied one of my outfits already, and... why, I did not notice it before, but the rain of this day has slightly dirtied this coat as well!" He looked at it in genuine surprise, and wondered why he had not noticed it sooner. Perhaps his worry for Marigold and his suspicion of that Big Folk fellow kept him blind to it until now.
But the Big Folk fellow? Where had he gone? And, come to think of it, where was Marigold? Ah, yes, that young woman stranger had carried her up to her room. But... Falco was not nearly as suspicious of the young woman stranger as he was of the Big Folk fellow, but still he did not like to leave Marigold alone with one he did not know very well.
Camille was looking at him, as if expecting him to go on. He coughed and regained his previous train of thought.
"I have no cart, I fear... all I had was a pony, which kicked me off and ran away. But I wouldn't be opposed to carrying your brother here... as long as he wouldn't mind if I stopped and rested a bit every now and then. Regrettably I am not as young and strong as I used to be." He glanced towards the door, and thought about Marigold again.
"Now, my dear Miss Camille, when you've finished your lunch, perhaps you'd like to come meet Marigold. There have been no other hobbit lasses her age around the Inn, and though she seems happy enough in the company of elderly hobbits like me, I'm sure she would very much enjoy the company of one her own age."
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