"Jetty," said Charles, accosting him, and speaking upon impulse, "who is the man that lodges with you? The fellow with the great brown beard, who goes about in a suit of grey."
"I don't know who he is in particular, sir," replied Jetty. "He is a very quiet lodger, and pays regular."
"What is he down here for?"
"Well, I think for his health," said Jetty. "He told us he had not been well for some time before he came to Grassmere."
"What is his name?"
"That I don't know, sir——"
"Not know his name?" interrupted Charles, impatiently.
"Well, sir, I was going to say that I don't know it from himself. He is uncommonly close as to his own affairs: though he likes well enough to hear about other people's. As to his name, he did not mention it when he first came in, and my sister said she did not like to ask him. But——"
"I never knew such a thing as not knowing a lodger's name," went on Charles, getting excited over it, whilst Frank stood by in perfect silence. "Does the man not get any letters?"
"Yes, sir. But they don't come to the house; they are left at the post-office in Grassmere, and he fetches them himself. The other morning, when Esther went into his parlour, he was reading one of these letters, and the cover lay on the table, address upwards. She was not quick enough to read the name on it, for he took it up, but she saw it was a short name and began with a G."