house. And then she began a long story, out
of which Lady Glenmire and Miss Pole could
only gather one or two decided facts, which
were that, about six weeks ago, a light spring-
cart had broken down just before their door,
in which there were two men, one woman,
and this child. One of the men was seriously
hurt—no bones broken, only "shaken," the
landlady called it; but he had probably
sustained some severe internal injury, for he had
languished in their house ever since, attended
by his wife, the mother of this little girl.
Miss Pole had asked what he was, what he
looked like. And Mrs. Roberts had made
answer that he was not like a gentleman, nor
yet like a common person; if it had not been
that he and his wife were such decent quiet
people, she could almost have thought he was
a mountebank, or something of that kind, for
they had a great box in the cart, full of she
did not know what. She had helped to
unpack it, and take out their linen and
clothes, when the other man—his twin
brother, she believed he was—had gone off
with the horse and cart.

Miss Pole had begun to have her suspicions
at this point, and expressed her idea that it
was rather strange that the box and cart and
horse and all should have disappeared; but
good Mrs. Roberts seemed to have become
quite indignant at Miss Pole's implied
suggestion; in fact, Miss Pole said, she was as
angry as if Miss Pole had told her that she
herself was a swindler. As the best way of
convincing the ladies, she bethought her of
begging them to see the wife; and, as Miss
Pole said, there was no doubting the honest,
worn, bronzed face of the woman, who, at the
first tender word from Lady Glenmire, burst
into tears, which she was too weak to check,
until some word from the landlady made her
swallow down her sobs, in order that she
might testify to the Christian kindness shown
by Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. Miss Pole came
round with a swing to as vehement a belief
in the sorrowful tale as she had been
sceptical before; and, as a proof of this, her
energy in the poor sufferer's behalf was
nothing daunted when she found out that he,
and no other, was our Signer Brunoni, to
whom all Cranford had been attributing all
manner of evil this six weeks past! Yes!
his wife said his proper name was Samuel
Brown—"Sam," she called him—but to the
last we preferred calling him "the Signor," it
sounded so much better.

The end of their conversation with the
Signora Brunoni was, that it was agreed
that he should be placed under medical
advice, and for any expense incurred in
procuring this Lady Glenmire promised to hold
herself responsible; and had accordingly
gone to Mr. Hoggins to beg him to ride over
to the Rising Sun that very afternoon,
and examine into the Signor's real state; and
as Miss Pole said, if it was desirable to
remove him to Cranford to be more immediately
under Mr. Hoggins's eye, she would
undertake to see for lodgings, and arrange
about the rent. Mrs. Roberts had been as
kind as could be all throughout; but it was
evident that their long residence there had
been a slight inconvenience. Before Miss
Pole left us, Miss Matey and I were as full of
the morning's adventure as she was. We
talked about it all the evening, turning it in
every possible light; and we went to bed
anxious for the morning, when we should
surely hear from some one what Mr.
Hoggins thought and recommended. For, as
Miss Matey observed, though Mr. Hoggins
did say "Jack's up," "a fig for his heels," and
call Preference "Pref," she believed he was
a very worthy man, and a very clever surgeon.
Indeed, we were rather proud of our doctor
at Cranford, as a doctor.

We often wished, when we heard of Queen
Adelaide or the Duke of Wellington being
ill, that they would send for Mr. Hoggins;
but on consideration we were rather glad
they did not, for if we were ailing, what
should we do if Mr. Hoggins had been
appointed physician-in-ordinary to the Royal
Family? As a surgeon, we were proud of
him; but as a man—or rather, I should say,
as a gentleman—we could only shake our
heads over his name and himself, and wish
that he had read Lord Chesterfield's Letters
in the days when his manners were
susceptible of improvement. Nevertheless, we
all regarded his dictum in the Signor's case
as infallible; and when he said, that with
care and attention he might rally, we had no
more fear for him.

But although we had no more fear, everybody
did as much as if there was great cause
for anxiety—as indeed there was, until Mr.
Hoggins took charge of him. Miss Pole
looked out clean and comfortable, if homely,
lodgings; Miss Matey sent the sedan-chair
for him; and Martha and I aired it well before
it left Cranford, by holding a warming-pan
full of red hot coals in it, and then shutting
it up close, smoke and all, until the time
when he should get into it at the Rising
Sun. Lady Glenmire undertook the medical
department under Mr. Hoggins' directions;
and rummaged up all Mrs. Jamieson's medicine
glasses, and spoons, and bed-tables, in a
free and easy way, that made Miss Matey feel
a little anxious as to what that lady and Mr.
Mulliner might say, if they knew. Mrs.
Forrester made some of the bread-jelly, for
which she was so famous, to have ready as a
refreshment in the lodgings when he should
arrive. A present of this bread-jelly was the
highest mark of favour dear Mrs. Forrester
could confer. Miss Pole had once asked her
for the receipt, but she had met with a very
decided rebuff; that lady told her that she
could not part with it to any one during her
life, and that after her death it was bequeathed,
as her executors would find, to Miss Matey.
What Miss Matey—or, as Mrs. Forrester