THE SILVER LAKE STORIES. AT

“No,” said I, “only about twenty
miles into the country.”

“You're going down to Stanfield,
then, likely ?”

“My friend lives a mile or two from
the village.”

“ Know Mr. Stark’s a r

“T think not, ma’am.”

“ That’s odd,” said the old lady, taking
a pinch of snuff, and then using an old
red silk pocket handkerchief. “ He's a
tailor out there; the best tailor there
is in Stanfield ; he’s very well to do in
the world; he’s my sister's son; the
only blood relation I've got this side