“To be sure I did; do you doubt it?”

“Not in the least,” said the man.

“Ah! ah!” said I, “I thought I should bring you back to your original opinion.  I am, then, a vagrant Gypsy body, a tramper, a wandering blacksmith.”

“Not a blacksmith, whatever else you may be,” said the postillion, laughing.

“Then how do you account for my making those shoes?”

“By your not being a blacksmith,” said the postillion; “no blacksmith would have made shoes in that manner.  Besides, what did you mean just now by saying you had finished these shoes to-day? a real blacksmith would have flung off half-a-dozen sets of donkey shoes in one morning, but you, I will be sworn, have been hammering at these for days, and they do you credit, but why? because you are no blacksmith; no, friend, your shoes may do for this young gentlewoman’s animal, but I shouldn’t like to have my horses shod by you, unless at a great pinch indeed.”

“Then,” said I, “for what do you take me?”

“Why, for some runaway young gentleman,” said the postillion.  “No offence, I hope?”

“None at all; no one is offended at being taken or mistaken for a young gentleman, whether runaway or not; but from whence do you suppose I have run away?”

“Why, from college,” said the man:  “no offence?”

“None whatever; and what induced me to run away from college?”

“A love affair, I’ll be sworn,” said the postillion.  “You had become acquainted with this young gentle woman, so she and you—­”

“Mind how you get on, friend,” said Belle, in a deep serious tone.

“Pray proceed,” said I; “I dare say you mean no offence.”

“None in the world,” said the postillion; “all I was going to say was that you agreed to run away together, you from college and she from boarding-school.  Well, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a matter like that, such things are done every day by young folks in high life.”

“Are you offended?” said I to Belle.

Belle made no answer; but, placing her elbows on her knees, buried her face in her hands.

“So we ran away together?” said I.

“Ay, ay,” said the postillion, “to Gretna Green, though I can’t say that I drove ye, though I have driven many a pair.”

“And from Gretna Green we came here?”

“I’ll be bound you did,” said the man, “till you could arrange matters at home.”

“And the horse-shoes?” said I.

“The donkey-shoes you mean,” answered the postillion; “why, I suppose you persuaded the blacksmith who married you to give you, before you left, a few lessons in his trade?”

“And we intend to stay here till we have arranged matters at home?”