ing of the false tidings. But sitting in his inner room, Mr.
Pogson read the third edition of the _Evening Advertiser_, and then
saw the statement, given with many details. "We," said the statement,
"have sent over to the office of our contemporary, and have
corroborated the facts." Then the story was repeated. Pushing his way
through a gate at Gimberley Green, Lord Hampstead's horse had tumbled
down, and all the field had ridden over him. He had been picked up
dead, and his body had been carried home to Gorse Hall. Now Lord
Hampstead's name had become familiar in King's Court. Tribbledale
had told how the young lord had become enamoured of Zachary Fay's
daughter, and was ready to marry her at a moment's notice. The tale
had been repeated to old Littlebird by young Littlebird, and at last
even to Mr. Pogson himself. There had been, of course, much doubt
in King's Court as to the very improbable story. But some inquiries
had been made, and there was now a general belief in its truth. When
Mr. Pogson read the account of the sad tragedy he paused a moment to
think what he would do, then opened his door and called for Zachary
Fay. They who had known the Quaker long always called him Zachary, or
Friend Zachary, or Zachary Fay. "My friend," said Mr. Pogson, "have
you read this yet?" and he handed him the paper.

"I never have much time for the newspaper till I get home at night,"
said the clerk, taking the sheet that was offered him.

"You had better read it, perhaps, as I have heard your name
mentioned, I know not how properly, with that of the young lord."
Then the Quaker, bringing his spectacles down from his forehead over
his eyes, slowly read the paragraph. As he did so Mr. Pogson looked
at him carefully. But the Quaker showed very little emotion by his
face. "Does it concern you, Zachary?"

"I know the young man, Mr. Pogson. Though he be much out of my own
rank, circumstances have brought him to my notice. I shall be grieved
if this be true. With thy permission, Mr. Pogson, I will lock up my
desk and return home at once." To this Mr. Pogson of course assented,
recommending the Quaker to put the newspaper into his pocket.

Zachary Fay, as he walked to the spot where he was wont to find the
omnibus, considered much as to what he might best do when he reached
home. Should he tell the sad tidings to his girl, or should he leave
her to hear it when further time should have confirmed the truth.
To Zachary himself it seeme