herself. Our excellent deceased friend was a good woman, sir--a
pious woman--and might have grounds for confidence in the boy's
safety which are not accessible to us, sir.'

'Hout,' said the tobacconist, 'I ken very weel what were her
grounds for confidence. There's Mrs. Rebecca (the maid) sitting
there has tell'd me a hundred times in my ain shop, there was nae
kenning how her leddy wad settle her affairs, for an auld gipsy
witch wife at Gilsland had possessed her with a notion that the
callant--Harry Bertram ca's she him?--would come alive again some
day after a'. Ye'll no deny that, Mrs. Rebecca? though I dare to
say ye forgot to put your mistress in mind of what ye promised to
say when I gied ye mony a half-crown. But ye'll no deny what I am
saying now, lass?'

'I ken naething at a' about it,' answered Rebecca, doggedly, and
looking straight forward with the firm countenance of one not
disposed to be compelled to remember more than was agreeable to
her.

'Weel said, Rebecca! ye're satisfied wi' your ain share ony way,'
rejoined the tobacconist.

The buck of the second-head, for a buck of the first-head he was
not, had hitherto been slapping his boots with his switch-whip,
and looking like a spoiled child that has lost its supper. His
murmurs, however, were all vented inwardly, or at most in a
soliloquy such as this--'I am sorry, by G-d, I ever plagued myself
about her. I came here, by G-d, one night to drink tea, and I left
King and the Duke's rider Will Hack. They were toasting a round of