interview with his hysterical and tearful mother, Richard nearly as
hysterical as she, and made the best of his way home again, pondering
over what he had heard.

The magistrates made a good evening of it. Mr. Carlyle entertained them
to supper--mutton chops and bread and cheese. They took up their pipes
for another whiff when the meal was over, but Miss Carlyle retired to
bed; the smoke, to which she had not been accustomed since her father's
death, had made her head ache and her eyes smart. About eleven they
wished Mr. Carlyle good-night, and departed, but Mr. Dill, in obedience
to a nod from his superior, remained.

"Sit down a moment, Dill; I want to ask you a question. You are intimate
with the Thorns, of Swainson; do they happen to have any relative, a
nephew or cousin, perhaps, a dandy young fellow?"

"I went over last Sunday fortnight to spend the day with young Jacob,"
was the answer of Mr. Dill, one wider from the point than he generally
gave. Mr. Carlyle smiled.

"_Young_ Jacob! He must be forty, I suppose."

"About that. But you and I estimate age differently, Mr. Archibald. They
have no nephew; the old man never had but those two children, Jacob and
Edward. Neither have they any cousin. Rich men they are growing now.
Jacob has set up his carriage."

Mr. Carlyle mused, but he expected the answer, for neither had he
heard of the brothers Thorn, tanners, curriers, and leather-dressers,
possessing a relative of the name. "Dill," said he, "something has