th a 'igh vall in front."

"You would know it again?"

"In course; he's so wery peculiar."

"He,--who?"

"Vy, the 'ous. The young lady got out, and the hold folks driv back. I
did not go arter them!" and Beck looked sly.

"So! I must find out the name."

"I axed at the public," said Beck, proud of his diplomacy. "They keeps
a sarvant vot takes half a pint at her meals. The young lady's mabe a
foriner."

"A foreigner! Then she lives there with her mother?"

"So they s'pose at the public."

"And the name?"

Beck shook his head. "'T is a French 'un, your honour; but the sarvant's
is Martha."

"You must meet me at Brompton, near the turnpike, tomorrow, and show me
the house."

"Vy, I's in bizness all day, please your honour."

"In business?"'

"I's the place of the crossing," said Beck, with much dignity; "but
arter eight I goes vere I likes."

"To-morrow evening, then, at half-past eight, by the turnpike."

Beck pulled his forelock assentingly.

"There's the sovereign I promised you, my poor fellow; much good may
it do you. Perhaps you have some father or mother whose heart it will
glad."

"I never had no such thing," replied Beck, turning the coin in his hand.

"Well, don't spend it in drink."

"I never drinks nothing but svipes."

"Then," said Percival, laughingly, "what, my good friend, will you ever
do with your money?"

Beck put his finger to his nose, sunk his voice into a whisper, and
replied solemnly: "I 'as a mattris."

"A mistress," said Percival. "Oh, a sweetheart. Well, but if she's a
good girl, and loves you, she'll not let you spend your money on her."

"I haint such a ninny as that," said Beck, with majestic contempt. "I
'spises the flat that is done brown by the blowens. I 'as a mattris."

"A mattress! a mattress! Well, what has that to do with the money?"

"Vy, I lines it."

Percival looked puzzled. "Oh," said he, after a thoughtful pause, and in
a tone of considerable compassion, "I understand: you sew your money in
your mattress. My poor, poor lad, you can do better than that! There are
the savings banks."

Beck looked frightened. "I 'opes your honour von't tell no vun. I 'opes
no vun von't go for to put my tin vere I shall know nothing vatsomever
about it. Now, I knows vere it is, and I lays on it."

"Do you sleep more soundly when you lie on your treasure?"

"No. It's hodd," said Beck, musingly, "but the more I lines it, the
vorse I sleeps."

Percival laughed,