cried at last.

"To be sure I did; do you doubt it?"

"Not in the least," said the man.

"Ah! ah!" said I, "I thought I should bring you back to your original
opinion. I am, then, a vagrant Gypsy body, a tramper, a wandering
blacksmith."

"Not a blacksmith, whatever else you may be," said the postillion,
laughing.

"Then how do you account for my making those shoes?"

"By your not being a blacksmith," said the postillion; "no blacksmith
would have made shoes in that manner. Besides, what did you mean just
now by saying you had finished these shoes to-day? a real blacksmith
would have flung off three or four sets of donkey-shoes in one morning,
but you, I will be sworn, have been hammering at these for days, and they
do you credit, but why? because you are no blacksmith; no, friend, your
shoes may do for this young gentlewoman's animal, but I shouldn't like to
have my horses shod by you, unless at a great pinch indeed."

"Then," said I, "for what do you take me?"

"Why, for some runaway young gentleman," said the postillion. "No
offence, I hope?"

"None at all; no one is offended at being taken or mistaken for a young
gentleman, whether runaway or not; but from whence do you suppose I have
run away?"

"Why, from college," said the man; "no offence?"

"None whatever; and what induced me to run away from college?"

"A love affair, I'll be sworn," said the postillion. "You had become
acquainted with this young gentlewoman, so she and you--"

"Mind how you get on, friend," said Belle, in a deep serious tone.

"Pray proceed," said I; "I dare say you mean no offence."

"None in the world," said the postillion; "all I was going to say was
that you agreed to run away together, you from college, and she from
boarding-school. Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of in a matter like
that, such things are done every day by young folks in high life."

"Are you offended?" said I to Belle.

Belle made no answer; but, placing her elbows on her knees, buried her
face in her hands.

"So we ran away together?" said I.

"Ay, ay," said the postillion, "to Gretna Green, though I can't say that
I drove ye, though I have driven many a pair."

"And from Gretna Green we came here?"

"I'll be bound you did," said the man, "till you could arrange matters at
home."

"And the horse-shoes?" said I.

"The donkey-shoes, you mean," answered the postillion; "why, I suppose
you persuaded the blacksmith who married you to g