ured was proved by the
perfect manner in which he remembered incidents of his childhood narrated
by his newly found mother and sister. He even volunteered one or two
himself which had happened when the latter was a year or two old.

"And now," said Mrs. Green, in a somewhat trembling voice, "we must go
and tell your step-father."

Mr. Letts responded, but without briskness, and, with such moral support
as an arm of each could afford, walked slowly back. Arrived at a road of
substantial cottages at the back of the town, Mrs. Green gasped, and,
coming to a standstill, nodded at a van that stood half-way up the road.

"There it is," she exclaimed.

"What?" demanded Mr. Letts.

"The furniture I told you about," said Mrs. Green. "The furniture that
your poor father thought such a lot of, because it used to belong to his
grandfather. He's selling it to Simpson, though I begged and prayed him
not to."

Mr. Letts encouraged himself with a deep cough. "My furniture?" he
demanded.

Mrs. Green took courage. "Yes," she said, hope-fully; "your father left
it to you."

Mr. Letts, carrying his head very erect, took a firmer grip of their arms
and gazed steadily at a disagreeable-looking man who was eying them in
some astonishment from the doorway. With arms still linked they found
the narrow gateway somewhat difficult, but they negotiated it by a
turning movement, and, standing in the front garden, waited while Mrs.
Green tried to find her voice.

[Illustration: "A disagreeable-looking man was eying them in some
astonishment from the doorway."]

"Jack," she said at last, "this is your stepfather."

Mr. Letts, in some difficulty as to the etiquette on such occasions,
released his right arm and extended his hand.

"Good-evening, stepfather," he said, cheerfully.

Mr. Green drew back a little and regarded him unfavorably.

"We--we thought you was drowned," he said at last.

"I was nearly," said Mr. Letts.

"We all thought so," pursued Mr. Green, grudgingly. "Everybody thought
so."

He stood aside, as a short, hot-faced man, with a small bureau clasped in
his arms and supported on his knees, emerged from the house and staggered
towards the gate. Mr. Letts reflected.

"Halloa!" he said, suddenly. "Why, are you moving, mother?"

Mrs. Green sniffed sadly and shook her head. "Well," said Mr. Letts,
with an admirable stare, "what's that chap doing with my furniture?"

"Eh?" spluttered Mr. Green. "What?"