“Why, nobody!” nodded the Postilion, “not a soul till we opened our mouths; an’ then ’twould be easy enough, for my lord, or earl, or gentleman, bein’ naked, an’ not likin’ it (which would only be nat’ral), would fall a-swearin’ ’eavens ’ard, damning everybody an’ cursin’ everything, an’ never stop to think, while I—­not bein’ born to it—­should stand there a-shiverin’ an’ tryin’ a curse or two myself, maybe—­but Lord! mine wouldn’t amount to nothin’ at all, me not bein’ nat’rally gifted, nor yet born to it—­an’ this brings me round to ’er!”

“Her?”

“Ah—­’er!  Number Two—­’er as quarrelled wi’ Number One all the way from London—­’er as run away from Number One—­wot about—­’er?” Here he fell to combing his hair again with his whip-handle, while his quick, bright eyes dodged from my face to the glowing forge and back again, and his clean-shaven lips pursed themselves in a soundless whistle.  And, as I watched him, it seemed to me that this was the question that had been in his mind all along.

“Seeing she did manage to run away from him—­Number One—­she is probably very well,” I answered.

“Ah—­to be sure! very well, you say?—­ah, to be sure!” said the Postilion, apparently lost in contemplation of the bellows; “an’ —­where might she be, now?”

“That I am unable to tell you,” said I, and began to blow up the fire while the Postilion watched me, sucking the handle of his whip reflectively.

“You work oncommon ’ard—­drownd me if you don’t!”

“Pretty hard!” I nodded.

“An’ gets well paid for it, p’r’aps?”

“Not so well as I could wish,” said I.

“Not so well as ’e could wish,” nodded the Postilion, apparently addressing the sledge-hammer, for his gaze was fixed upon it.  “Of course not—­the ’arder a man works the wuss ’e gets paid—­’ow much did you say you got a week?”

“I named no sum,” I replied.

“Well—­’ow much might you be gettin’ a week?”

“Ten shillings.”

“Gets ten shillin’ a week!” he nodded to the sledgehammer, “that ain’t much for a chap like ’im—­kick me, if it is!”

“Yet I make it do very well!”

The Postilion became again absorbed in contemplation of the bellows; indeed he studied them so intently, viewing them with his head now on one side, now on the other, that I fell to watching him, under my brows, and so, presently, caught him furtively watching me.  Hereupon he drew his whip from his mouth and spoke.

“Supposing—­” said he, and stopped.

“Well?” I inquired, and, leaning upon my hammer, I looked him square in the eye.

“Supposing—­wot are you a-staring at, my feller?”

“You have said ‘supposing’ twice—­well?”

“Well,” said he, fixing his eye upon the bellows again, “supposing you was to make a guinea over an’ above your wages this week?”

“I should be very much surprised,” said I.