"Brixtonbury, sir."

"Brixtonbury! Where's that?"

"Well, sir, I don't rightly know. If a gentleman like you, knowing
jography and such, can't tell, how can I?"

"You ought to know where you were born, man. Haven't you got common
sense?"

"Where could such a one as me get common sense, sir? Besides, I was only
a foundling. Mebbe I warn's born at all."

"Did I see you at church last Sunday?"

"No, sir. I only come o' Wensday."

"Well, let me see you there next Sunday," said Fairholme shortly,
turning away from him.

Miss Wilson looked at the weather, at Josephs, who was conversing with
Jane, and finally at Smilash, who knuckled his forehead without waiting
to be addressed.

"Have you a boy whom you can send to Lyvern to get us a conveyance--a
carriage? I will give him a shilling for his trouble."

"A shilling!" said Smilash joyfully. "Your ladyship is a noble lady. Two
four-wheeled cabs. There's eight on you."