few acquaintances, and it was generally understood that Mrs. Chantrey
was quite a cipher. No one ever expected her to become prominent in
Upton.

About half-way down the High street of Upton stood a small old-fashioned
saddler's shop, the door of which was divided across the middle, so as
to form two parts, the upper one always thrown open. Above the doorway,
under a low-gabled roof, hung a cracked and mouldering sign-board,
bearing the words "Ann Holland, Saddler." All the letters were faded,
yet a keen eye might detect that the name "Ann" was more distinct than
the others, as if painted at a later date. Within the shop an old
journeyman was always to be seen, busy at his trade, and taking no heed
of any customer coming in, unless the ringing of a bell on the lower
half of the door remained unnoticed, when he would shamble away to call
his mistress. In an evening after the twilight had set in, and it was
too dark for her own ornamental stitching of the saddlery. Ann Holland
was often to be found leaning over the half-door of her shop, and ready
to exchange a friendly good-night, or a more lengthy conversation, with
her townsfolk as they passed to and fro. She was a rosy, cheery-looking
woman, still under fifty, with a pleasant voice and a friendly word for
every one, and it was well known that she had refused several offers of
marriage, some of them very eligible for a person of her station. There
was not one of the townspeople she had not known from their earliest
appearance in Upton, and she had the pedigree of all the families, high
and low, at her finger-ends. New-comers she could only tolerate until
they had lived respectably and paid their debts punctually for a good
number of years. She had a kindly love of gossip, a simple real interest
in the fortunes of all about her. There was little else for her to think
of, for books and newspapers came seldom in her way, and were often far
above her comprehension when they did, Upton news that would bring tears