I make an end of it, think even of my having
misunderstood the Major! Yes! For next
forenoon the Major came into my little room
with his brushed hat in his hand and he begins
"My dearest madam" and then put his
face in his hat as if he had just come into
church. As I sat all in a maze he came out of
his hat and began again. "My esteemed and
beloved friend——" and then went into his hat
again. "Major," I cries out frightened "has
anything happened to our darling boy?" "No,
no, no" says the Major "but Miss Wozenham
has been here this morning to make her excuses
to me, and by the Lord I can't get over what she
told me." "Hoity toity, Major," I says "you
don't know yet that I was afraid of you last night
and didn't think half as well of you as I ought!
So come out of church Major and forgive me
like a dear old friend and I'll never do so any
more." And I leave you to judge my dear
whether I ever did or will. And how affecting
to think of Miss Wozenham out of her small
income and her losses doing so much for her poor
old father, and keeping a brother that had had the
misfortune to soften his brain against the hard
mathematics as neat as a new pin in the three
back represented to lodgers as a lumber-room
and consuming a whole shoulder of mutton
whenever provided!

And now my dear I really am a going to tell
you about my Legacy if you're inclined to favour
me with your attention, and I did fully intend to
have come straight to it only one thing does so
bring up another. It was the month of June
and the day before Midsummer Day when my
girl—Winifred Madgers—she was what is termed
a Plymouth Sister, and the Plymouth Brother
that made away with her was quite right, for a
tidier young woman for a wife never came into
a house and afterwards called with the
beautifullest Plymouth Twins — it was the day
before Midsummer Day when Winifred Madgers
comes and says to me "A gentleman from the
Consul's wishes particular to speak to Mrs.
Lirriper." If you'll believe me my dear the
Consols at the bank where I have a little
matter for Jemmy got into my head, and I says
"Good gracious I hope he ain't had any dreadful
fall!" Says Winifred "He don't look as if
he had ma'am." And I says " Show him in."

The gentleman came in dark and with his hair
cropped what I should consider too close, and he
says very polite "Madame Lirrwiper!" I says
"Yes sir. Take a chair." "I come," says he
"frrwom the Frrwench Consul's." So I saw
at once that it wasn't the Bank of England.
"We have rrweceived," says the gentleman
turning his r's very curious and skilful, "frrwom
the Mairrwie at Sens, a communication which I
will have the honour to rrwead. Madame
Lirrwiper understands Frrwench?" "Oh dear no
sir!" says I. "Madame Lirriper don't understand
anything of the sort." "It matters not,"
says the gentleman, " I will trrwanslate."

With that my dear the gentleman after reading
something about a Department and a Mairie
(which Lord forgive me I supposed till the
Major came home was Mary, and never was I
more puzzled than to think how that young
woman came to have so much to do with it)
translated a lot with the most obliging pains,
and it came to this:—That in the town of Sens
in France, an unknown Englishman lay a dying.
That he was speechless and without motion. That
in his lodging there was a gold watch and a purse
containing such and such money and a trunk
containing such and such clothes, but no passport
and no papers, except that on his table was a pack
of cards and that he had written in pencil on the
back of the ace of hearts: "To the authorities.
When I am dead, pray send what is left, as a last
Legacy, to Mrs. Lirriper Eighty-one Norfolk-
street Strand London." When the gentleman had
explained all this, which seemed to be drawn up
much more methodical than I should have given
the French credit for, not at that time knowing
the nation, he put the document into my hand.
And much the wiser I was for that you may be
sure, except that it had the look of being made
out upon grocery-paper and was stamped all over
with eagles.

"Does Madame Lirrwiper" says the gentleman
"believe she rrwecognises her unfortunate
compatrrwiot?"

You may imagine the flurry it put me into
my dear to be talked to about my compatriots.

I says "Excuse me. Would you have the
kindness sir to make your language as simple as
you can?"

"This Englishman unhappy, at the point of
death. This compatrrwiot afflicted," says the
gentleman.

"Thank you sir" I says "I understand you
now. No sir I have not the least idea who
this can be."

"Has Madame Lirrwiper no son, no nephew,
no godson, no frrwiend, no acquaintance of any
kind in Frrwance?"

"To my certain knowledge" says I "no
relation or friend, and to the best of my belief no
acquaintance."

"Pardon me. You take Locataires?" says
the gentleman.

My dear fully believing he was offering me
something with his obliging foreign manners—
snuff for anything I knew—I gave a little bend
of my head and I says if you'll credit it, "No I
thank you. I have not contracted the habit."

The gentleman looks perplexed and says
"Lodgers?"

"Oh!" says I laughing. "Bless the man!
Why yes to be sure!"

"May it not be a former lodger?" says the
gentleman. "Some lodger that you pardoned
some rrwent? You have pardoned lodgers
some rrwent?"

"Hem! It has happened sir" says I, "but I
assure you I can call to mind no gentleman of
that description that this is at all likely to be."

In short my dear we could make nothing of
it, and the gentleman noted down what I said
and went away. But he left me the paper of
which he had two with him, and when the Major
came in I says to the Major as I put it in his hand