Extend the Story - Add a Room

You dismount briefly, letting the horse rest and crop a bit more grass, drinking from the small container of water you're carrying and nibbling at the bread your mother packed. You long for a nap, but know that if you rest it will grow too late to continue on to Montreal.

Remounting, you set off again toward the city. You wonder why your parents allowed you to take the horse; surely they will need her come planting season? And they must know that you don't intend to return immediately. Still, you have a distance to travel and not so much time to cover it. You urge the mare once more into her bone-jarring trot.

It is very, very nearly full dark when you reach the edges of Montreal. By the time you are inside the city, you fear that you will not be able to get lodging for the night. Relatively few travelers come through even the more prosperous towns of New France; it's still very much a wilderness in the eyes of the world.

Still, you do manage to find an inn. It's not as if the land is entirely deserted, you scold yourself. They lead your horse into the small stable, while you approach the innkeeper about spending the night.

"Excuse me, sir?" The man turns to you. He's an older man; portly and with hair long gone grey.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Do you have lodging for the night, possibly longer?"
"Of course, if you can pay."

He eyes you curiously, and suddenly you are conscious that you look very much the country boy, even if your mother assured you that you'd never have cause for shame. You dig out the small purse of coins that you brought, and show him the money. He grins broadly, and reaches for the money. You clutch it back to yourself, snarling at him.
"I will pay you only what I need. Nothing more."
"Ah, so the country boy's a financial savant!"
"You're as much from the country as I," you spit, "at least in the eyes of Europe!" You hadn't thought that your mother's complaints about Quebec had sunk so deeply into you, but apparently they had.

"Well, what will it be?"
You feel a sudden urge to leave and find other lodging, but you know that's impractical. And so you tell him.

"Dinner first, then a room."