“Well, Master Henry, I’ve been in an’ about old Bucks a tidyish time—off an’ on I reckon for the better part o’ the last ten year—indeed, iver since I left the old place, you know—but I han’t niver been over a entire year in one partikler place at a time, d’ye see. My constitution ha’ been rather delicate at times, an’ needed change o’ air.”
“You know the topography of the county, I suppose?”
“I doan’t understand what ye mean by that ere topografy. It be a biggish sort o’ a word. If you mean the roads, I knows them, putty nigh as well as the man that made ’em—specially them as runs atween here an’ Oxford.”
“Good! That’s the very direction in which I stand in need of a trusty messenger. I have others I can send towards the north and south, but none who know anything of the Oxford side. You will do. If you are familiar with the roads in that direction, then you must also be acquainted with most of the residences near them—I mean those of the gentry.”
“Oh! ye-e-s,” assented Gregory, in a thoughtful drawl. “I’ve heerd speak o’ most on ’em; an’ I dar say most o’ ’em’s heerd speak o’ me.”
“Could you deliver letters to H— L—, to Sir K. F—, to young M—, son of Lord S., to R— M—, of Cheveley Park, and to Master G. C., a magistrate of the borough of High Wycombe?”
The cavalier, in putting this question, gave the names in full.
“Well,” replied the ex-footpad, “I dare say I kud deliver letters to all the gents you’ve made mention o’—that be in the order as you’ve named ’em. But if I war to begin whar you’ve left off, then I shud be obligated to leave off, just whar I hed begun.”
“What! I don’t understand you, Gregory.”
“Why, it be simple enough, Master Henry. War I to carry a letter to that old pot-guts Justice o’ High Wycombe, ’taint likely I shud bring back the answer,—much less get leave to go on to the tothers, as you’ve named.”