"Oh, Mr. Osip, really, Mr. Osip. Surely, port or whiskey at Christmas, let alone the freezing weather, and the frost causing thirst." "I never drink alcohol, Mrs. Dumps." "Lor now," said the landlady, confidentially, "if you aren't exactly like me on the mother's side, as I come of a full-blooded family given to choking and apoplexy. I don't believe in strong drink myself, Mr. Osip, say what you like." "Then why sell it?" was the not unnatural question. "I must live," said Mrs. Dumps, plaintively; then to avoid further remarks, she hopped into the bar like a wren, although her plumage was less sober. Presently she returned with the ginger beer. "And won't you take something to eat, Mr. Osip?" she asked, with her fashionable head on one side, more like a bird than ever. "No, thank you," Osip paused, then faced her abruptly. "I am a stranger in Crumel and I think of taking a house here. Do you know of any to let, Mrs. Dumps?" "My cousin does, Mr. Osip. Arthur Grinder, Grocer and Land-agent, with an insurance office and a dog-cart, in which he drives round our beautiful and interesting country. All orders----" Osip cut Mrs. Dumps short in her description, which was evidently culled from the local guide-book, or from one of Mr. Grinder's pamphlets. "I shall see him to-morrow, if I stay," said he, hurriedly. "But, surely, Mr. Osip, you'll stay, seeing you have paid?" "Circumstances may arise which may make it necessary for me to return to London to-night. But I can afford the loss." This speech made the landlady sweeter than ever. Apparently the stranger was rich, so she prepared to make herself aggressively agreeable. "If you become one of us," chirped Mrs. Dumps, more like a roguish bird than ever. "I dare say you'll like to know about the town." Osip sat down near the fire and folded his arms. "Information of that kind has its advantages," he said, dryly, "can you tell me anything about Crumel and its inhabitants?" "Can I tell?" echoed Mrs. Dumps, shrilly contemptuous, "why, I was born and bred here. It is thirty years since I saw the light of day in dear Crumel. Thirty years," repeated Mrs. Dumps, challenging contradiction, which she seemed to expect with regard to her age. Osip might have suggested with some truth that she was over forty, but he did not judge it wise to interrupt the flowing current of her gossip. Nodding gravely he looked into the fire and Mrs. Dumps talked on rapidly, reverting again to the guide-book or to the pamphlet of Mr. Grinder, who was her cousin.