and “pro bono publico,” he added, somewhat maliciously, at the cost of our worthy tradesman.  These things, it may not be necessary to say, had elevated that worthy into no moderate importance among those around him; and, that he himself was not altogether unconscious of the change, it may be remarked that an ugly kink, or double in his back—­the consequence of his pack and past humility—­had gone down wonderfully, keeping due pace in its descent with the progress of his upward manifestations.

Such was the somewhat novel position of Bunce, in the village and neighborhood of Chestatee, when the absolute necessity of the case prompted Munro’s application to him for assistance in the proposed extrication of Ralph Colleton.  The landlord had not been insensible to the interest which the pedler had taken in the youth’s fortune, and not doubting his perfect sympathy with the design in view, he felt the fewer scruples in approaching him for the purpose.  Putting on, therefore, the disguise, which, as an old woman, had effectually concealed his true person from Bunce on a previous occasion, he waited until evening had set in fairly, and then proceeded to the abode of him he sought.

The pedler was alone in his cottage, discussing, most probably, his future designs, and calculating to a nicety the various profits of each premeditated branch of his future business.  Munro’s disguise was intended rather to facilitate his progress without detection through the village, than to impose upon the pedler merely; but it was not unwise that he should be ignorant also of the person with whom he dealt.  Affecting a tone of voice, therefore, which, however masculine, was yet totally unlike his own, the landlord demanded a private interview, which was readily granted, though, as the circumstance was unusual, with some few signs of trepidation.  Bunce was no lover of old women, nor, indeed, of young ones either.  He was habitually and constitutionally cold and impenetrable on the subject of all passions, save that of trade, and would rather have sold a dress of calico, than have kissed the prettiest damsel in creation.  His manner, to the old woman who appeared before him, seemed that of one who had an uncomfortable suspicion of having pleased rather more than he intended; and it was no small relief, therefore, the first salutation being over, when the masculine tones reassured him.  Munro, without much circumlocution, immediately proceeded to ask whether he was willing to lend a hand for the help of Colleton, and to save him from the gallows?

“Colleton!—­save Master Colleton!—­do tell—­is that what you mean?”

“It is.  Are you the man to help your friend—­will you make one along with others who are going to try for it?”

“Well, now, don’t be rash; give a body time to consider.  It’s pesky full of trouble; dangerous, too.  It’s so strange!—­” and the pedler showed himself a little bewildered by the sudden manner in which the subject had been broached.