"Two, sir; but very unlike their mother."

"Why, what kind of a woman is their mother?"

"She's a saint, sir, of a sartin class--ever and always at her prayers,"
(_sotto voce_, "such as they are--cursing her fellow-cratures from
mornin' till night.")

"Well, at all events, it is a good thing to be religious."

"Devil a better, sir; but she, as I said, is a saint from--heaven"
(_sotto voce_, "and very far from it too.) But, sir, there's a lady
in this neighborhood--I won't name her--that has a tongue as sharp and
poisonous as if she lived on rattlesnakes; and she has an eye of her own
that they say is every bit as dangerous."

"And who is she, my good fellow?"

"Why, a very intimate friend of Mrs. Lindsay's, and seldom out of her
company. Now, sir, do you see that house wid the tall chimleys, or
rather do you see the tall chimleys--for you can't see the house itself?
That's where the family we spake of lives, and there you'll see Mrs.
Lindsay and the lady I mention."

Woodward, in fact, knew not what to make of his guide; he found him
inscrutable, and deemed it useless to attempt the extortion of any
further intelligence from him. The latter was ignorant that Mrs.
Lindsay's son was expected home, as was every member of that gentleman's
family. He had, in fact, given them no information of his return.