gh of the whole pack of you."

[Illustration: "'Go and sleep somewhere else, then,' ses Dixon."]

He sat down and put 'is feet in the fender, and old Burge, as soon as he
'ad got 'is senses back, went into the bar and complained to 'is niece,
and she came into the parlour like a thunderstorm.

"You'll beg my uncle's pardon as well as mine afore you come out o' that
room," she said to her 'usband; "mind that."

George Dixon didn't say a word; the shame of it was a'most more than 'e
could stand. Then 'e got up to go out o' the parlour and Charlie pushed
'im back agin. Three times he tried, and then 'e stood up and looked at
'is wife.

"I've been a good 'usband to you," he ses; "but there's no satisfying
you. You ought to ha' married somebody that would ha' knocked you about,
and then you'd ha' been happy. I'm too fond of a quiet life to suit
you."

"Are you going to beg my pardon and my uncle's pardon?" ses 'is wife,
stamping 'er foot.

"No," ses Dixon; "I am not. I'm surprised at you asking it."

"Well, you don't come out o' this room till you do," ses 'is wife.

"That won't hurt me," ses Dixon. "I couldn't look anybody in the face
arter being pushed out o' my own bar."

They kept 'im there all the rest o' the day, and, as 'e was still
obstinate when bedtime came, Mrs. Dixon, who wasn't to be beat, brought
down some bedclothes and 'ad a bed made up for 'im on the sofa. Some men
would ha' 'ad the police in for less than that, but George Dixon 'ad got
a great deal o' pride and 'e couldn't bear the shame of it. Instead o'
that 'e acted like a fourteen-year-old boy and ran away to sea.

They found 'im gone when they came down in the morning, and the side-door
on the latch. He 'ad left a letter for 'is wife on the table, telling
'er wot he 'ad done. Short and sweet it was, and wound up with telling
'er to be careful that her uncle and cousins didn't eat 'er out of house
and 'ome.

She got another letter two days arterward, saying that he 'ad shipped as
ordinary seaman on an American barque called the _Seabird,_ bound for
California, and that 'e expected to be away a year, or thereabouts.

"It'll do 'im good," ses old Burge, when Mrs. Dixon read the letter to
'em. "It's a 'ard life is the sea, and he'll appreciate his 'ome when 'e
comes back to it agin. He don't know when 'e's well off. It's as
comfortable a 'ome as a man could wish to 'ave." It was surprising wot a
little difference George Dixon's