"And there, if I don't disremember," said the traveller, "is a house kept by the widow Dimock; the Blue Ball, I think?"
"There is, sir."
"And no forks in the road betwixt this and the widow's?"
"It is a plain road," replied Mildred.
"And about two miles beyont—is squire Lindsay's, at a place they call the Dove Cote?"
"Does your business take you there?" asked Mildred, with interest; "are you from the army?—whence come you?"
"Beg pardon, ma'am," replied the stranger, smiling, "but I am an old sodger, and rather warry about answering questions that consarn myself. I suppose it is likely I mought see Mr. Lindsay?"
"Pray, sir, tell me what brings you here, and who you are? I have special reasons for presuming so far upon your kindness. I myself live at the Dove Cote, and"—
"Then, mayhap, you mought have hearn of one Major Arthur Butler?"
"Oh yes, sir,—if you have any news of him, speak it to me quickly," exclaimed Mildred, with much agitation.