"Yes, Allington. Is there not a village called Allington?"
"There is a village called Allington, certainly. It lies over there." And Johnny pointed with his finger through the window. "As you do not know the country you can see nothing, but I can see the Allington trees at this moment."
"I suppose there is no inn at Allington?"
"There's a public-house, with a very nice clean bedroom. It is called the 'Red Lion.' Mrs. Forrard keeps it. I would quite as soon stay there as at 'The Magpie.' Only if they don't expect you, they wouldn't have much for dinner."
"Then you know the village of Allington?"
"Yes, I know the village of Allington very well. I have friends living there. Indeed, I may say I know everybody in Allington."
"Do you know Mrs. Dale?"
"Mrs. Dale?" said Johnny. "Yes, I know Mrs. Dale. I have known Mrs. Dale pretty nearly all my life." Who could this man be who was going down to see Mrs. Dale,—Mrs. Dale, and consequently, Lily Dale? He thought that he knew Mrs. Dale so well, that she could have no visitor of whom he would not be entitled to have some knowledge. But Major Grantly had nothing more to say at the moment about Mrs. Dale. He had never seen Mrs. Dale in his life, and was now going to her house, not to see her, but a friend of hers. He found that he could not very well explain this to a stranger, and therefore at the moment he said nothing further. But Johnny would not allow the subject to be dropped. "Have you known Mrs. Dale long?" he asked.
"I have not the pleasure of knowing her at all," said the major.
"I thought, perhaps, by your asking after her—"