orted firmly, 'and you know
what it sounded like. Come!'

'I never heard it said, Misses Brown,' returned the Grinder.

'Then,' retorted the old woman quickly, 'you have seen it written, and
you can spell it.'

Rob, with a petulant exclamation between laughing and crying--for he
was penetrated with some admiration of Mrs Brown's cunning, even through
this persecution--after some reluctant fumbling in his waistcoat pocket,
produced from it a little piece of chalk. The old woman's eyes sparkled
when she saw it between his thumb and finger, and hastily clearing a
space on the deal table, that he might write the word there, she once
more made her signal with a shaking hand.

'Now I tell you beforehand what it is, Misses Brown,' said Rob, 'it's no
use asking me anything else. I won't answer anything else; I can't. How
long it was to be before they met, or whose plan it was that they was to
go away alone, I don't know no more than you do. I don't know any more
about it. If I was to tell you how I found out this word, you'd believe
that. Shall I tell you, Misses Brown?'

'Yes, Rob.'

'Well then, Misses Brown. The way--now you won't ask any more, you
know?' said Rob, turning his eyes, which were now fast getting drowsy
and stupid, upon her.

'Not another word,' said Mrs Brown.

'Well then, the way was this. When a certain person left the lady with
me, he put a piece of paper with a direction written on it in the lady's
hand, saying it was in case she should forget. She wasn't afraid of
forgetting, for she tore it up as soon as his back was turned, and
when I put up the carriage steps, I shook out one of the pieces--she
sprinkled the rest out of the window, I suppose, for there was none
there afterwards, though I looked for 'em. There was only one word on
it, and that was this, if you must and will know. But remember! You're
upon your oath, Misses Brown!'

Mrs Brown knew that, she said. Rob, having nothing more to say, began to
chalk, slowly and laboriously, on the table.

'"D,"' the old woman read aloud, when he had formed the letter.

'Will you hold your tongue, Misses Brown?' he exclaimed, covering it
with his hand, and turning impatiently upon her. 'I won't have it read
out. Be quiet, will you!'

'Then write large, Rob,' she returned, repeating her secret signal; 'for
my eyes are not good, even at print.'

Muttering to himself, and returning to his work with an ill will, Rob
went on with the word. As he bent