ehaving
like this a few weeks ago."

"Oh, Joe!" said his wife, entreatingly; "and everybody's been so happy!"

"Except me," retorted Joe Billing. "You come down and get my breakfast
ready. If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on 'is way to
work. And mind, if I find that steam-orgin 'ere when I come 'ome
to-night you'll hear of it."

He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes,
and, meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved
gentleman the surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact that
Mr. Billing had broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the evening
might bring forth. Curious eyes followed his progress as he returned
home from work, and a little later on the news was spread abroad that he
was out and paying off old scores with an ardour that nothing could
withstand.

"And wot about your change of 'art?" demanded one indignant matron, as
her husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in the
scullery.

"It's changed agin," said Mr. Billing, simply.

He finished the evening in the Blue Lion, where he had one bar almost to
himself, and, avoiding his wife's reproachful glance when he arrived
home, procured some warm water and began to bathe his honourable scars.

"Mr. Purnip 'as been round with another gentleman," said his wife.

Mr. Billing said, "Oh!"

"Very much upset they was, and 'ope you'll go and see them," she
continued.

Mr. Billing said "Oh!" again; and, after thinking the matter over, called
next day at the Settlement and explained his position.

"It's all right for gentlemen like you," he said civilly. "But a man.
like me can't call his soul 'is own--or even 'is bedroom. Everybody
takes advantage of 'im. Nobody ever gives you a punch, and, as for
putting babies in your bedroom, they wouldn't dream of it."

He left amid expressions of general regret, turning a deaf ear to all
suggestions about making another start, and went off exulting in his
freedom.

His one trouble was Mr. Purnip, that estimable gentleman, who seemed to
have a weird gift of meeting him at all sorts of times and places, never
making any allusion to his desertion, but showing quite clearly by his
manner that he still hoped for the return of the wanderer. It was
awkward for a man of sensitive disposition, and Mr. Billing, before
entering a street, got into the habit of peering round the corner first.

He pulled up suddenly one