od at the door of the shop with her
hands clasped on her apron."]

The little shop with its wide-mouthed bottles of sweets was one of her
earliest memories. Until her marriage she had known no other home, and
when her husband was lost with the _North Star_ some three years before,
she gave up her home in Poplar and returned to assist her mother in the
little shop.

In a restless mood she took up a piece of needle-work, and a minute or
two later put it down again. A glance through the glass of the door
leading into the small parlour revealed Mrs. Gimpson, with a red shawl
round her shoulders, asleep in her easy-chair.

Mrs. Boxer turned at the clang of the shop bell, and then, with a wild
cry, stood gazing at the figure of a man standing in the door-way. He
was short and bearded, with oddly shaped shoulders, and a left leg which
was not a match; but the next moment Mrs. Boxer was in his arms sobbing
and laughing together.

Mrs. Gimpson, whose nerves were still quivering owing to the suddenness
with which she had been awakened, came into the shop; Mr. Boxer freed an
arm, and placing it round her waist kissed her with some affection on the
chin.

"He's come back!" cried Mrs. Boxer, hysterically.

"Thank goodness," said Mrs. Gimpson, after a moment's deliberation.

"He's alive!" cried Mrs. Boxer. "He's alive!"

She half-dragged and half-led him into the small parlour, and thrusting
him into the easy-chair lately vacated by Mrs. Gimpson seated herself
upon his knee, regardless in her excitement that the rightful owner was
with elaborate care selecting the most uncomfortable chair in the room.

"Fancy his coming back!" said Mrs. Boxer, wiping her eyes. "How did you
escape, John? Where have you been? Tell us all about it."

Mr. Boxer sighed. "It 'ud be a long story if I had the gift of telling
of it," he said, slowly, "but I'll cut it short for the present. When
the _North Star_ went down in the South Pacific most o' the hands got
away in the boats, but I was too late. I got this crack on the head with
something falling on it from aloft. Look here."

He bent his head, and Mrs. Boxer, separating the stubble with her
fingers, uttered an exclamation of pity and alarm at the extent of the
scar; Mrs. Gimpson, craning forward, uttered a sound which might mean
anything--even pity.

"When I come to my senses," continued Mr. Boxer, "the ship was sinking,
and I just got to my feet when she went down and took m