pursued his way.

When he reached home, Mrs. Hopper regarded him compassionately; the
good woman was much disturbed by the strangeness of his demeanour
lately, and feared he was going to be ill.

"You look dre'ful tired, sir," she said. "I'll make you a cup of tea at
once. It'll do you good."

"Yes, get me some tea," answered Warburton, absently. Then, as she was
leaving the room, he asked, "Is it true that the grocer Boxon is dead?"

"I was going to speak of it this morning, sir," replied Mrs. Hopper,
"but you seemed so busy. Yes, sir, he's died--died the day before
yesterday, they say, and it'd be surprising to hear as anybody's sorry."

"Who'll take his business?" asked Warburton.

"We was talking about that last night, sir, me and my sister Liza, and
the Allchins. It's fallen off a great deal lately, what else could you
expect? since Boxon got into his bad ways. But anybody as had a little
money might do well there. Allchin was saying he wished he had a few
'undreds."

"A few hundred would be enough?" interrupted the listener, without
noticing the look of peculiar eagerness on Mrs. Hopper's face.

"Allchin thinks the goodwill can be had for about a 'undred, sir; and
the rent, it's only eighty pounds--"

"Shop and house?"

"Yes, sir; so Allchin says. It isn't much of a 'ouse, of course."

"What profits could be made, do you suppose, by an energetic man?"

"When Boxon began, sir," replied Mrs. Hopper, with growing animation,
"he used to make--so Allchin says--a good five or six 'undred a year.
There's a good deal of profit in the grocery business, and Boxon's
situation is good; there's no other grocer near him. But of course--as
Allchin says--you want to lay out a good deal at starting--"

"Yes, yes, of course, you must have stock." said Will carelessly.
"Bring me some tea at once, Mrs. Hopper."

It had suddenly occurred to him that Allchin might think of trying to
borrow the capital wherewith to start this business, and that Mrs.
Hopper might advise her brother-in-law to apply to him for the loan.

But this was not at all the idea which had prompted Will's inquiries.

CHAPTER 18

Another week went by. Warburton was still living in the same restless
way, but did not wear quite so gloomy a countenance; now and then he
looked almost cheerful. That was the case when one morning he received
a letter from Sherwood. Godfrey wrote that, no sooner had he arrived at
his relative's in North Wales tha