lanced
in dismay at a bill in the window announcing that the house was to be
sold. He walked up the path still looking at it, and being admitted by
the trim servant was shown into the parlour, and stood in a dispirited
fashion before Mrs. Smith.

"Not back yet?" he inquired, gruffly.

The old lady shook her head.

"What--what--is that bill for?" demanded Mr. Davis, jerking his thumb
towards it.

"She is thinking of selling the house," said Mrs. Smith. "I let her know
you had been, and that is, the result. She won't comeback. You won't
see her again."

"Where is she?" inquired Mr. Davis, frowning.

Mrs. Smith shook her head again. "And it would be no use my telling
you," she said. "What she has got is her own, and the law won't let you
touch a penny of it without her consent. You must have treated her
badly; why did you leave her?"

"Why?" repeated Mr. Davis. "Why? Why, because she hit me over the 'ead
with a broom-handle."

Mrs. Smith tossed her head.

"Fancy you remembering that for thirty-five years!" she said.

"Fancy forgetting it!" retorted Mr. Davis.

"I suppose she had a hot temper," said the old lady.

"'Ot temper?" said the other. "Yes." He leaned forward, and holding
his chilled hands over the fire stood for some time deep in thought.

"I don't know what it is," he said at last, "but there's a something
about you that reminds me of her. It ain't your voice, 'cos she had a
very nice voice--when she wasn't in a temper--and it ain't your face,
because--"

"Yes?" said Mrs. Smith, sharply. "Because it don't remind me of her."

"And yet the other day you said you recognized me at once," said the old
lady.

"I thought I did," said Mr. Davis. "One thing is, I was expecting to see
her, I s'pose."

There was a long silence.

"Well, I won't keep you," said Mrs. Smith at last, "and it's no good for
you to keep coming here to see her. She will never come here again.
I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you don't look over and above
respectable. Your coat is torn, your trousers are patched in a dozen
places, and your boots are half off your feet--I don't know what the
servant must think."

"I--I only came to look for my wife," said Mr. Davis, in a startled
voice. "I won't come again."

"That's right," said the old lady. "That'll please her, I know. And if
she should happen to ask what sort of a living you are making, what shall
I tell her?"

"Tell her what you said