esrate.”

    “It is his widow, sir.”

    “And h her? how do you know her?”

    “Mr. Reed her.”

    “told me t before: you always said you ions.”

    “None t would own me, sir. Mr. Reed is dead, and  me off.”

    “hy?”

    “Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me.”

    “But Reed left c alking of a Reed of Gateserday, oioning a Georgiana Reed of ty a season or two ago in London.”

    “Jooo, sir: o ted suicide. t it brougic attack.”

    “And w good can you do o see an old lady w you off.”

    “Yes, sir, but t is long ago; and : I could not be easy to neglect her wishes now.”

    “ay?”

    “As s a time as possible, sir.”

    “Promise me only to stay a week—”

    “I ter not pass my .”

    “At all events you  be induced under any pretext to take up a permanent residence h her?”

    “Oainly return if all be well.”

    “And ravel a hundred miles alone.”

    “No, sir, s her coachman.”

    “A person to be trusted?”

    “Yes, sir, en years in the family.”

    Mr. Rocer meditated. “o go?”

    “Early to-morrow morning, sir.”

    “ell, you must  travel  money, and I daresay you  muc. he world, Jane?” he asked, smiling.

    I dre my purse; a meagre t o  as if its scantiness amused - book: “e; it y pounds, and  fifteen. I told him I had no change.

    “I don’t  c. take your wages.”

    I declined accepting more t first; ting something, he said—

    “Rig! Better not give you all noy pounds. ten