’Whose name? What! ce bon Poisson! I will remember for your sake.’ John Herring brought down the dead man’s desk into the hall, that Mr. Battishill and he might examine its contents together. Mr. Battishill hastily put his leg up as Herring entered. ’Sorry that I could not attend the funeral,’ said the old gentleman, ’but the sins of the fathers are visited on their children. I endure the gout because my father and grandfather tippled port. Sit down, Herring, and I will tell you a good story. In the grand old days when there were many squires about here, and the Knapmans were at Wansdon, and the Whiddons at Whiddon, the old Squire Knapman was getting into a bad way financially, like me. He was invited to dinner at Whiddon, and drove there in his great coach. After dinner, Squire Whiddon saw him into his overcoat in the hall, and was about to accompany him to the door when old Knapman said, "No, no! you will catch cold; keep in, man." But the squire was too hospitable for that, and he attended Knapman to the coach. "Don’t come out, for heaven’s sake, you will get your death of cold," said Knapman. "Why!" exclaimed Whiddon, "what is the meaning of this, Knapman? Going to ride on the box instead of inside, a night like this?" "I prefer it," answered Squire Knapman, proceeding to ascend to the box. But Whiddon would not allow it; he went to the coach-door and opened it—when, lo! he found it full of hay.’ ’How came that?’ asked Herring. ’Why, do you not see? Old Knapman was badly off for hay for his horse, and when he went out anywhere to dinner he told his coachman to fill the carriage with hay from his host’s rick, and himself went home on the box.’ ’A good story, sir; but I think we had better examine the contents of this desk before we tell any more.’ ’Sit down, sit down, man. Do not drive the willing horse, and let an old man give you a piece of advice. Let well alone, and do not precipitate yourself, as Orlando says, "from the smoke into the smother."’ ’But you forget, sir, this that you advise me to leave alone is not well at all. The young lady is an orphan, and we know nothing of her relatives.’ ’Go on, then! How full of briars is this working-day world! What do you propose to do with the lady?’ ’I cannot tell till I have ascertained whether she has relatives in England.’ ’If she has not, she must be made a ward in Chancery, or you must marry her, and so take her affairs into your own hands.’ ’Mr. Battishill!’ John Herring flushed to his temples and looked down.