shipmate of mine this morning what
I 'adn't seen for ten years, and he told me he run acrost 'er only a
month ago. After she left me--"

"But you said you left her!" exclaimed his listening friend.

"Same thing," said Mr. Davis, impatiently. "After she left me to work
myself to death at sea, running here and there at the orders of a pack
o'lazy scuts aft, she went into service and stayed in one place for
fifteen years. Then 'er missis died and left her all 'er money. For
twenty years, while I've been working myself to skin and bone, she's been
living in comfort and idleness."

"'Ard lines," said Mr. Wotton, shaking his head. "It don't bear thinking
of."

"Why didn't she advertise for me?" said Mr. Davis, raising his voice.
"That's what I want to know. Advertisements is cheap enough; why didn't
she advertise? I should 'ave come at once if she'd said anything about
money."

Mr. Wotton shook his head again. "P'r'aps she didn't want you," he said,
slowly.

"What's that got to do with it?" demanded the other. "It was 'er dooty.
She'd got money, and I ought to have 'ad my 'arf of it. Nothing can make
up for that wasted twenty years--nothing."

"P'r'aps she'll take you back," said Mr. Wotton.

"Take me back?" repeated Mr. Davis. "O' course she'll take me back.
She'll have to. There's a law in the land, ain't there? What I'm
thinking of is: Can I get back my share what I ought to have 'ad for the
last twenty years?"

"Get 'er to take you back first," counselled his friend. "Thirty-five
years is along time, and p'r'aps she has lost 'er love for you. Was you
good-looking in those days?"

"Yes," snapped Mr. Davis; "I ain't altered much--. 'Sides, what about
her?"

"That ain't the question," said the other. "She's got a home and money.
It don't matter about looks; and, wot's more, she ain't bound to keep
you. If you take my advice, you won't dream of letting her know you run
away from her. Say you was cast away at sea, and when you came back
years afterwards you couldn't find her."

Mr. Davis pondered for some time in sulky silence.

"P'r'aps it would be as well," he said at last; "but I sha'n't stand no
nonsense, mind."

"If you like I'll come with you," said Mr. Wotton. "I ain't got nothing
to do. I could tell 'er I was cast away with you if you liked. Anything
to help a pal."

Mr. Davis took two inches of soiled clay pipe from his pocket and puffed
thoughtfully.

"You can come," h