I would ask him.
Fiat.
"Hullo, Horner!" I said, tapping him at once on the shoulder, and arresting him from the abstracted contemplation of two stylish girls in pink, who were just turning the corner of the churchyard out of sight.
"Yaas, 'do ?" he replied, moving his head round slowly, as if it worked on a pivot which, wanted greasing, so as to confront me.

He was as mild and imperturbable as usual.

An earthquake, I believe, would not have quickened his movements.
"How d'ye do ?" responded I to his mono-syllabical greeting.

"I say, old fellow," I continued, "did you chance to see which way two ladies went who came out a minute or so before myself?
One was middle-aged, or thereabouts; the other young; both were dressed in half-mourning.

They looked strangers to the parish, I think: you must have seen them, I'm sure, eh ?" "Bai-ey Je-ove! Two middle-aged ladies; one dwessed in hawf-mawning?
--" "Nonsense, Horner!" said I, interrupting him; "what a mess you are making of it! I said _one_ lady was middle-aged; and _both_ dressed in half-mourning." "Weally, now?
No, Lorton, 'pon honah; didn't see 'em, I asshaw you.
Was it Baby Blake and her moth-ah, now, ah ?" and he smiled complacently, as if he had given me a fund of information.
"Baby Blake!" I ejaculated in disgust--"why, Horner, you're quite absurd.