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'Half a minute, if you please!' shouted the man over his shoulder, and vanished into a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke. In a moment he was out again, wiping his hands on his apron.'Good evening, little master!' he said, bending down. 'What may you be wanting?''Beds for four, and stabling for five ponies, if that can be managed. Are you Mr. Butterbur?''That's right! Barliman is my name. Barliman Butterbur at your service! sorry not to make you welcome. But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough. It never rains but it pours, we say in Bree.'Hi! Nob!' he shouted. 'Where are you, you woolly-footed slow-coach? Nob!''Coming, sir! Coming!' A cheery-looking hobbit bobbed out of a door, and seeing the travellers, stopped short and stared at them with great interest.'Where's Bob?' asked the landlord. 'You don't know? Well find him! Double sharpYou're from the Shire, eh?' he said, and then suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead, as if trying to remember something. 'Hobbits!' he cried. 'Now what does that remind me of? Might I ask your names, sir?''Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck,' said Frodo; 'and this is Sam Gamgee. My name is Underhill.''There now!' said Mr. Butterbur, snapping his fingers. 'It's gone again! But it'll come back, when I have time to think. I'm run off my feet; but I'll see what I can do for you. We don't often get a party out of the Shire nowadays, and I should be