Part 1

Chapter 1

           OnaneveninginthelatterpartofMayamiddle-agedmanwaswalkinghomewardfromShastontothevillageofMarlott,intheadjoiningValeofBlakemoreorBlackmoor.Thepairoflegsthatcarriedhimwererickety,andtherewasabiasinhisgaitwhichinclinedhimsomewhattotheleftofastraightline.Heoccasionallygaveasmartnod,asifinconfirmationofsomeopinion,thoughhewasnotthinkingofanythinginparticular.Anemptyegg-basketwasslunguponhisarm,thenapofhishatwasruffled,apatchbeingquitewornawayatitsbrimwherehisthumbcameintakingitoff.Presentlyhewasmetbyanelderlyparsonastrideonagraymare,who,asherode,hummedawanderingtune.

           “Goodnightt’ee,”saidthemanwiththebasket.

           “Goodnight,SirJohn,”saidtheparson.

           Thepedestrian,afteranotherpaceortwo,halted,andturnedround.

           “Now,sir,beggingyourpardon;wemetlastmarket-dayonthisroadaboutthistime,andIsaid“Goodnight,”andyoumadereply‘GOODNIGHT,SIRJOHN,’asnow.”

           “Idid,”saidtheparson.

           “Andoncebeforethatnearamonthago.”

           “Imayhave.”

           “Thenwhatmightyourmeaningbeincallingme‘SirJohn’thesedifferenttimes,whenIbeplainJackDurbeyfield,thehaggler?”

           Theparsonrodeasteportwonearer.

           “Itwasonlymywhim,”hesaid;and,afteramoment’shesitation:“ItwasonaccountofadiscoveryImadesomelittletimeago,whilstIwashuntinguppedigreesforthenewcountyhistory.IamParsonTringham,theantiquary,ofStagfootLane.

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