It was just after I was married to Hanson, and that was when I was about three-and-twenty, and I was fifty-six last birthday.

James came--once--to see me and Hanson soon after we was settled down, and I've never set eyes on him from that day to this.
But--I should know him now." "He was buried yesterday," remarked Mr.Lindsey.

"It's a pity you didn't telegraph to some of us." "The lawyer I went to, sir, said, 'Go yourself!'" replied Mrs.Hanson.
"So I set off--first thing this morning." "Let me have a look at those papers," said Mr.Lindsey.
He motioned me to his side, and together we looked through two or three documents which the woman produced.
The most important was a certified copy of James Gilverthwaite's birth certificate, which went to prove that this man had been born in Liverpool about sixty-two years previously; that, as Mr.Lindsey was quick to point out, fitted in with what Gilverthwaite had told my mother and myself about his age.
"Well," he said, turning to Mrs.Hanson, "you can answer some questions, no doubt, about your brother, and about matters in relation to him.

First of all, do you know if any of your folks hailed from this part ?" "Not that I ever heard of, sir," she replied.

"No, I'm sure they wouldn't.