Possibly these two might not have spoken again till their parting, had it not been for the reddleman’s visits to his van.  When he returned from his fifth time of looking in the old man said, “You have something inside there besides your load?”

“Yes.”

“Somebody who wants looking after?”

“Yes.”

Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior.  The reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again.

“You have a child there, my man?”

“No, sir, I have a woman.”

“The deuce you have!  Why did she cry out?”

“Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she’s uneasy, and keeps dreaming.”

“A young woman?”

“Yes, a young woman.”

“That would have interested me forty years ago.  Perhaps she’s your wife?”

“My wife!” said the other bitterly.  “She’s above mating with such as I. But there’s no reason why I should tell you about that.”

“That’s true.  And there’s no reason why you should not.  What harm can I do to you or to her?”

The reddleman looked in the old man’s face.  “Well, sir,” he said at last, “I knew her before today, though perhaps it would have been better if I had not.  But she’s nothing to me, and I am nothing to her; and she wouldn’t have been in my van if any better carriage had been there to take her.”

“Where, may I ask?”

“At Anglebury.”

“I know the town well.  What was she doing there?”

“Oh, not much—­to gossip about.  However, she’s tired to death now, and not at all well, and that’s what makes her so restless.  She dropped off into a nap about an hour ago, and ’twill do her good.”

“A nice-looking girl, no doubt?”

“You would say so.”

The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van window, and, without withdrawing them, said, “I presume I might look in upon her?”

“No,” said the reddleman abruptly.  “It is getting too dark for you to see much of her; and, more than that, I have no right to allow you.  Thank God she sleeps so well:  I hope she won’t wake till she’s home.”

“Who is she?  One of the neighbourhood?”

“’Tis no matter who, excuse me.”

“It is not that girl of Blooms-End, who has been talked about more or less lately?  If so, I know her; and I can guess what has happened.”

“’Tis no matter...  Now, sir, I am sorry to say that we shall soon have to part company.  My ponies are tired, and I have further to go, and I am going to rest them under this bank for an hour.”

The elder traveller nodded his head indifferently, and the reddleman turned his horses and van in upon the turf, saying, “Good night.”  The old man replied, and proceeded on his way as before.