“Did you say that horse came from Ipswich, young man?” said the dealer.
“I did,” said she.
“When did he leave Ipswich?”
“Yesterday.”
“Did you leave with him?”
“Yes, I did; I told you so.”
“No, you didn’t; you told me you rode him from Chelmsford.”
“So I did; and from Ipswich too.”
“What was your master’s name?”
“Mr. John Cook,” said Margaret, who now began to feel a little uneasy.