till they were about three hundred yards out of the
town, and had nearly reached the second bridge, behind which, as every
native remembers, the road takes a turn and travellers by this highway
disappear finally from the view of gazing burghers.

'Well, as I'm alive!' cried the postmistress from the interior of the
conveyance, peering through the little square back-window along the road
townward.

'What?' said the carrier.

'A man hailing us!'

Another sudden stoppage. 'Somebody else?' the carrier asked.

'Ay, sure!' All waited silently, while those who could gaze out did so.

'Now, who can that be?' Burthen continued. 'I just put it to ye,
neighbours, can any man keep time with such hindrances? Bain't we full
a'ready? Who in the world can the man be?'

'He's a sort of gentleman,' said the schoolmaster, his position
commanding the road more comfortably than that of his comrades.

The stranger, who had been holding up his umbrella to attract their
notice, was walking forward leisurely enough, now that he found, by their
stopping, that it had been secured. His clothes were decidedly not of a
local cut, though it was difficult to point out any particular mark of
difference. In his left hand he carried a small leather travelling bag.
As soon as he had overtaken the van he glanced at the inscription on its
side, as if to assure himself that he had hailed the right conveyance,
and asked if they had room.

The carrier replied that though they were pretty well laden he supposed
they could carry one more, whereupon the stranger mounted, and took the
seat cleared for him within. And then the horses made another move, this
time for good, and swung along with their burden of fourteen souls all
told.

'You bain't one of these parts, sir?' said the carrier. 'I could tell
that as far as I could see 'ee.'

'Yes, I am one of these parts,' said the stranger.

'Oh? H'm.'

The silence which followed seemed to imply a doubt of the truth of the
new-comer's assertion. 'I was speaking of Upper Longpuddle more
particular,' continued the carrier hardily, 'and I think I know most
faces of that valley.'

'I was born at Longpuddle, and nursed at Longpuddle, and my father and
grandfather before me,' said the passenger quietly.

'Why, to be sure,' said the aged groceress in the background, 'it isn't
John Lackland's son--never--it can't be--he who went to foreign parts
five-and-thirty years ago with his wife and family?