"Crumel," explained Mrs. Dumps, breathlessly, "has three thousand inhabitants, more or less, chiefly less, and the surrounding country is dotted with the delightful residence of well-to-do gentry. Formerly the place was called Legby, in the time of Charles the First; but when General Cromwell visited the then village, during one of his wars, the prosperity increased so greatly through his having made it his headquarters, that the inhabitants, in compliment to the great man, called the then village, Cromwell, which by time has become corrupted to Crumel." "Very interesting," yawned Osip, visibly bored. "The minster is tenth century, and very fine," continued the guide-book, "and also Low Church, the vicar being the Rev. Nehemiah Clarke, who is quite a Puritan, out of compliment, no doubt, to Cromwell, or Crumel, to whom the town, formerly the village of Legby, owes its greatness. And they do say," continued Mrs. Dumps, dropping the guide-book, to become merely a gossip, "that Mr. Clarke's daughter, Miss Prudence,--did you ever hear such a name, sir, and she isn't a bit prudent, well, then, Miss Prudence would rather her pa was High Church. I dare say Mr. Ferdinand, who loves Miss Prudence, would like it also, he being quite artistic." "You have mentioned Mr. Ferdinand several times, Mrs. Dumps. Who is he?" "An orphan, and so is his sister, Miss Clarice Baird,--wealthy orphans, too, Mr. Osip, I assure you," and Mrs. Dumps nodded vigorously. Osip showed that he was becoming weary of this conversation, since he was not gathering precisely the information he required. Abruptly he changed the subject. "In this lane----" "Street," interpolated Mrs. Dumps, indignantly. "Very good: street. And nearly opposite to this inn----" "Hotel, if you please, Mr. Osip. The Savoy Hotel." "So be it, Mrs. Dumps. Well, then, in this street and nearly opposite to the Savoy Hotel, there is a red brick mansion, which I should like to purchase, if it is for sale." "Lor, now, how funny that is, say what you like, seeing it's the very house where the Baird orphans live." "Alone, Mrs. Dumps?" "Oh, dear me, no, sir. They board, so to speak, with their guardian, Mr. Henry Horran, who suffers from some disease the doctors can't put a name to. He's been ailing, off and on, for over ten years; but the doctors can't cure him nohow, not knowin' what's wrong with his inside. Mr. Ferdinand ought to find out, seeing he's lived with Mr. Horran all his life, though to be sure, he ain't old, being but three and twenty." "Mr. Ferdinand Baird is not a doctor, then?" "He will be some day, if his brains hold out. He's a medical student, and what you might call an apprentice to Dr. Jerce." "Ha!" said Osip, quickly, "your local doctor?"