one of His Majesty's battleships, and a
curl plastered upon his forehead very much in the style of Burton
himself in earlier days. Directly he saw his father, he put his finger
in his mouth and seemed inclined to howl. Ellen raised her veil and
pushed him forward.

"Run to daddy," she ordered, sharply. "Do as you're told, or I'll box
your ears."

The child made an unwilling approach. Ellen herself advanced, holding
her skirts genteelly clutched in her left hand, her eyes fixed upon her
husband, her expression a mixture of defiance and appeal. Burton
welcomed them both calmly. His tongue failed him, however, when he
tried to embark upon the most ordinary form of greeting. Their
appearance gave him again a most unpleasant shock, a fact which he found
it extremely difficult to conceal.

"Well, can't you say you're glad to see us?" Ellen demanded,
belligerently.

"If I had not wished to see you," he replied, tactfully, "I should not
have asked you to come."

"Kiss your father," Ellen ordered, twisting the arm of her offspring.
"Kiss him at once, then, and stop whimpering."

The salute, which seemed to afford no one any particular satisfaction,
was carried out in perfunctory fashion. Burton, secretly wiping his
lips--he hated peppermint--turned towards Piccadilly.

"We will have some tea," he suggested,--"Lyons', if you like. There is
music there. I am glad that you are both well."

"Considering," Ellen declared, "that you haven't set eyes on us for Lord
knows how long--well, you need to be glad. Upon my word!"

She was regarding her husband in a puzzled manner. Burton was quietly
but well dressed. His apparel was not such as Ellen would have thought
of choosing for him, but in a dim sort of way she recognized its
qualities. She recognized, too, something new about him which, although
she vigorously rebelled against it, still impressed her with a sense of
superiority.

"Alfred Burton," she continued, impressively, "for the dear land's sake,
what's come over you? Mrs. Johnson was around last week and told me
you'd lost your job at Waddington's months ago. And here you are, all
in new clothes, and not a word about coming back or anything. Am I your
wife or not? What do you mean by it? Have you gone off your head, or
what have we done--me and little Alfred?"

"We will talk at tea-time," Burton said, uneasily.

Ellen set her lips grimly and the little party hastened on. Burton
ordered an extravagant tea, in which