“Faix,” said Paudeen to himself, when descending the stairs, “I'm afeard that's no tradesman--whatever he is. He took on him a look like a lord when that unfortunate Fenton went into the room. Troth, I'm fairly puzzled, at any rate!” “Take a seat, Mr. Fenton,” said the stranger, handing him a chair, and addressing him in terms of respect. “Thank, you, sir,” replied the other, putting, at the same time, a certain degree of restraint upon his maimer, for he felt conscious of being slightly influenced by liquor. “Well,” continued the stranger, “I am glad to see that you have improved your appearance.” “Ay, certainly, sir, as far as four pounds--or, I should rather say, three pounds went, I did something for the outer man.” “Why not the five?” asked the other. “I wished you to make yourself as comfortable as possible, and did not imagine you could have done it for less.” “No, sir, not properly, according to the standard of a gentleman; but I assure you, that, if I were in a state of utter and absolute starvation, I would not part with one of the notes you so generously gave me, scarcely to save my life.” “No!” exclaimed the stranger, with a good deal of surprise. “And pray, why not, may I ask?” “Simply,” said Fenton, “because I have taken a fancy for it beyond its value. I shall retain it as pocket-money. Like the Vicar of Wakefield's daughters, I shall always keep it about me; and then, like them also, I will never want money.” “That is a strange whim,” observed the other, “and rather an unaccountable one, besides.” “Not in the slightest degree,” replied Fenton, “if you knew as much as I do; but, at all events, just imagine that I am both capricious and eccentric; so don't be surprised at anything I say or do.” “Neither shall I,” replied “the anonymous” “However, to come to other matters, pray what kind of a town is this of Ballytrain?” “It is by no means a bad town,” replied Fenton, “as towns and times go. It has a market-house, a gaol, a church, as you have seen--a Roman Catholic chapel, and a place of worship for the Presbyterian and Methodist. It has, besides, that characteristic locality, either of English legislation or Irish crimes--or, perhaps, of both--a gallows-green. It has a public pump, that has been permitted to run dry, and public stocks for limbs like those of your humble servant, that are permitted to stand (the stocks I mean) as a libel upon the inoffensive morals of the town.” “How are commercial matters in it?” “Tolerable. Our shopkeepers are all very fair as shopkeepers. But, talking of that, perhaps you are not aware of a singular custom which even I--for I am not a native of this place--have seen in it?” “What may it have been.” asked the stranger.