PART V.


CHAPTER I.


In setting off the next morning, the Boots, whose heart I had won by an
extra sixpence for calling me betimes, good-naturedly informed me that I
might save a mile of the journey, and have a very pleasant walk into the
bargain, if I took the footpath through a gentleman's park, the lodge of
which I should see about seven miles from the town.

"And the grounds are showed too," said the Boots, "if so be you has a
mind to stay and see 'em. But don't you go to the gardener,--he'll want
half a crown; there's an old 'Oman at the lodge who will show you all
that's worth seeing--the walks and the big cascade--for a tizzy. You
may make use of my name," he added proudly,--"Bob, boots at the 'Lion.'
She be a haunt o' mine, and she minds them that come from me
perticklerly."

Not doubting that the purest philanthropy actuated these counsels, I
thanked my shock-headed friend, and asked carelessly to whom the park
belonged.

"To Muster Trevanion, the great parliament man," answered the Boots.
"You has heard o' him, I guess, sir?"

I shook my head, surprised every hour more and more to find how very
little there was in it.