the house that the young adventurer now surveyed.
It was of antique architecture, not uncommon in old towns; gable ends
rose from the roof; dull, small, latticed panes were sunk deep in the
gray, discolored wall; the pale, in part, was broken and jagged; and
rank weeds sprang up in the neglected garden, through which they walked
towards the porch. The door was open; they entered, and found an old
woman of coarse appearance sitting by the fireside, and gazing on space
with that vacant stare which so often characterizes the repose and
relaxation of the uneducated poor. Walter felt an involuntary thrill
of dislike come over him as he looked at the solitary inmate of the
solitary house.

"Hey day, sir!" said she, in a grating voice, "and what now? Oh! Mr.
Summers, is it you? You're welcome, sir! I wishes I could offer you
a glass of summut, but the bottle's dry--he! he!" pointing, with a
revolting grin, to an empty bottle that stood on a niche within the
hearth. "I don't know how it is, sir, but I never wants to eat; but ah!
't is the liquor that does un good!"

"You have lived a long time in this house?" said the curate.

"A long time,--some thirty years an' more."

"You remember your lodger, Mr. Aram?"

"A--well--yes!"

"An excellent man--"

"Humph."

"A most admirable man!"

"A-humph! he!--humph! that's neither here nor there."

"Why, you don't seem to think as all the rest of the world does with
regard to him?"

"I knows what I knows."

"Ah! by the by, you have some cock-and-a-bull story about him, I fancy,
but you never could explain yourself,--it is merely for the love of
seeming wise that you invented it, eh, Goody?"

The old woman shook her head, and crossing her hands on her knee,
replied with peculiar emphasis, but in a very low and whispered voice,
"I could hang him!"

"Pooh!"

"Tell you I could!"

"Well, let's have the story then!"

"No, no! I have not told it to ne'er a one yet, and I won't for nothing.
What will you give me? Make it worth my while."

"Tell us all, honestly, fairly, and fully, and you shall have five
golden guineas. There, Goody."

Roused by this promise, the dame looked up with more of energy than she
had yet shown, and muttered to herself, rocking her chair to and fro:
"Aha! why not? No fear now, both gone; can't now murder the poor old
cretur, as the wretch once threatened. Five golden guineas,--five, did
you say, sir, five?"

"Ah! and perhaps our bounty may not