"Now, my good soul, now! You want first to be put upon your oath?"
"Yes, sir."
The old man drew from his great-coat pocket a miniature copy of the Scriptures, and with the usual formalities administered the oath.
"Now, then, my good soul, begin—'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' you know. But first, your name?"
"Is it possible you don't know me, master?"
"Not I, in faith."
"For the love of heaven, look at me, and try to recollect me, sir! It is necessary some one in authority should be able to know me," said the woman, raising her haggard eyes to the face of her visitor.
The old man adjusted his spectacles and gave her a scrutinizing look, exclaiming at intervals:
"Lord bless my soul, it is! it ain't! it must! it can't be! Granny Grewell, the—the—the—midwife that disappeared from here some twelve or thirteen years ago!"
"Yes, master, I am Nancy Grewell, the ladies' nurse, who vanished from sight so mysteriously some thirteen years ago," replied the woman.