the merchant, and his brother, and they had made him a very fair offer.
"But I've a week to think of it," said he; "so there's no hurry."

Mercy fixed her eyes on him in a very peculiar way, and made no reply.
You must know that something very curious had happened whilst Griffith
was gone to Lancaster.

A travelling pedler, passing by, was struck with the name on the
signboard. "Hallo!" said he, "why here's a namesake of mine; I'll have a
glass of his ale any way."

So he came into the public room, and called for a glass; taking care to
open his pack, and display his inviting wares. Harry Vint served him.
"Here's your health," said the pedler. "You must drink with me, you
must."

"And welcome," said the old man.

"Well," said the pedler, "I do travel five counties; but for all that,
you are the first namesake I have found. I am Thomas Leicester, too, as
sure as you are a living sinner."

The old man laughed, and said, "Then no namesake of mine are you; for
they call me Harry Vint. Thomas Leicester, he that keeps this inn now,
is my son-in-law: he is gone to Lancaster this morning."

The pedler said that was a pity, he should have liked to see his
namesake, and drink a glass with him.

"Come again to-morrow," said Harry Vint, ironically. "Dame," he cried,
"come hither. Here's another Thomas Leicester for ye, wants to see our
one."

Mrs. Vint turned her head, and inspected the pedler from afar, as if he
was some natural curiosity.

"Where do you come from, young man?" said she.

"Well, I came from Kendal last; but I am Cumberland born."

"Why, that is where t'other comes from," suggested Paul Carrick, who was
once more a frequenter of the house.

"Like enow," said Mrs. Vint.

With that she dropped the matter as one of no consequence, and retired.
But she went straight to Mercy, in the parlor, and told her there was a
man in the kitchen that called himself Thomas Leicester.

"Well, mother?" said Mercy, with high indifference, for she was trying
new socks on King Baby.

"He comes from Cumberland."

"Well, to be sure, names do run in counties."

"That is true; but, seems to me, he favors your man: much of a height,
and--There, do just step into the kitchen a moment."

"La, mother," said Mercy, "I don't desire to see any more Thomas
Leicesters than my own: 'tis the man, not the name. Isn't it, my lamb?"

Mrs. Vint went back to the kitchen discomfited; but, with quiet
pertinacity, she brought Thomas L