left vacant, on the fogs'l 'longside
o' myself."

"Well, I'll take it," said Will.

Five minutes afterwards the guard shouted "all right," and they set off.

"Do you happen to know many of the people in the town of B--?" said Will
to the coachman, as they emerged from the suburbs and dashed out upon a
long tract of moorland.

"Know many of 'em, sir," said the man, tipping the off-leader on the
flank by way of keeping his hand in; "I should 'ope I does; it's two
year, this very day, since I came to this 'ere part o' the country, and
I've got married in B-- to a 'ooman as knows everythink and everybody,
so, of course, I knows everythink and everybody, too."

"Then you have heard of a Mrs Osten, no doubt, a widow lady?" said
Will.

"Wot, the widder o' that grumpy old gen'lman as died last year, leavin',
they say, a big estate in furrin parts?"

Will felt a tendency to seize the man by the throat, and tumble him off
his box into the road, but on second thoughts he restrained himself and
said--

"She is the widow of a gentleman with whom I was intimately acquainted.
I did not know anything about his having estates abroad."

"I axe your pardon, sir," said the man, a little abashed by Will's grave
manner; "didn't know they wos friends of yours. No offence, I 'ope.
The old lady is raither low since her husband's death--for it wos
somewhat sudden--an' they do say she's never got over the runnin' away
of her only son--at least so my wife says, an' she ought to know, for
she's bin intimate with the family for many years, an' knows the ooman
as nussed the boy--"

"What, Maryann?" exclaimed Will.

"The same. You seems to know 'em all, sir."

"Yes, I know them well. Is Maryann still with my--with Mrs Osten?"

"Yes, sir, she is, an' wot's more, she aint likely to quit in a 'urry.
W'y, sir, that 'ooman 'as 'ad no fewer than six hoffers of marriage, an'
'as refused 'em all for love of the old lady. My wife, she says to me
the other night, when she wos a-washin' of the baby in the big bread
can--you see, sir, the washin' tub's gone and sprung a leak, an' so
we're redoosed to the bread can--Well, as I wos a-sayin', my wife says
to me--`Richards,' says she, `it's my belief that Marryhann will never
marry, for her 'art an' soul is set upon Mrs Osten, an' she's got a
strange feelin' of sartinty that Master Will, as she calls the runaway
boy, will come back to comfort 'is mother an' look arter the furrin
estates. No, Ric