“Hullo, Horner!” I said, tapping him at once on the shoulder, and arresting him from the abstracted contemplation of two stylish girls in pink, who were just turning the corner of the churchyard out of sight.

“Yaas, ’do?” he replied, moving his head round slowly, as if it worked on a pivot which, wanted greasing, so as to confront me. He was as mild and imperturbable as usual. An earthquake, I believe, would not have quickened his movements.

“How d’ye do?” responded I to his mono-syllabical greeting. “I say, old fellow,” I continued, “did you chance to see which way two ladies went who came out a minute or so before myself? One was middle-aged, or thereabouts; the other young; both were dressed in half-mourning. They looked strangers to the parish, I think: you must have seen them, I’m sure, eh?”

“Bai-ey Je-ove! Two middle-aged ladies; one dwessed in hawf-mawning?—”

“Nonsense, Horner!” said I, interrupting him; “what a mess you are making of it! I said one lady was middle-aged; and both dressed in half-mourning.”

“Weally, now? No, Lorton, ’pon honah; didn’t see ’em, I asshaw you. Was it Baby Blake and her moth-ah, now, ah?” and he smiled complacently, as if he had given me a fund of information.

“Baby Blake!” I ejaculated in disgust—“why, Horner, you’re quite absurd. Do you take me for a fool? I think I ought to know Baby Blake as well as yourself by this time, my Solon!”

“Yaas; but, my deah fellah, I don’t know who you know, you know. Bai-ey Je-ove! there’s Lizzie Dangler. Who’s that man she’s got in tow, ah?”

“Hang Lizzie Dangler!” I exclaimed, impatiently. “Can’t you answer a question for once in your life—did you see them, or not?”

“Weally, Lorton,” said he, in quite an imploring way, “you needn’t get angwy with a fellah, because he can’t tell you what you want to know, you know! It’s weally too hot for that sawt of thing. I didn’t see them, I tell you. I can’t say mo-ah than that, can I? You mustn’t expect a fellah to see evwybody. Why, it’s seem-plee impawsible!”

His languid drawl exasperated me.

“Oh, bother!” I muttered, sotto voce, but loud enough for him to hear; and turned away from him angrily, leaving him still standing in his pet attitude, taking mental stock of all the fast-looking fair ones who might come under his 

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