t," ses Bob Pretty, shaking his 'ead. "You're welcome to it,
Henery, if there is anything. I never bore any malice to you for taking
of 'im away from us. I could see you'd took a fancy to 'im from the
fust. The way you pretended 'e was your great-uncle showed me that."

"Wot are you talking about?" ses Henery Walker. "He _was_ my
great-uncle!"

"Have it your own way, Henery," ses Bob Pretty; "on'y, if you asked me,
I should say that he was my wife's grandfather."

"_Your--wife's--grandfather?_" ses Henery Walker, in a choking voice.

He stood staring at 'im, stupid-like, for a minute or two, but he
couldn't get out another word. In a flash 'e saw 'ow he'd been done, and
how Bob Pretty 'ad been deceiving 'im all along, and the idea that he
'ad arf ruined himself keeping Mrs. Pretty's grandfather for 'em pretty
near sent 'im out of his mind.

"But how is it 'is name was Josiah Walker, same as Henery's
great-uncle?" ses Bill Chambers, who 'ad been crowding round with the
others. "Tell me that!"

"He 'ad a fancy for it," ses Bob Pretty, "and being a 'armless amusement
we let him 'ave his own way. I told Henery Walker over and over ag'in
that it wasn't his uncle, but he wouldn't believe me. I've got witnesses
to it. Wot did you say, Henery?"

Henery Walker drew 'imself up as tall as he could and stared at him.
Twice he opened 'is mouth to speak but couldn't, and then he made a
odd sort o' choking noise in his throat, and slammed the door in Bob
Pretty's face.

[Illustration: Slammed the door in Bob Pretty's face 181]

A LOVE-KNOT

[Illustration: A Love-Knot 184]

MR. NATHANIEL CLARK and Mrs. Bowman had just finished their third game
of draughts. It had been a difficult game for Mr. Clark, the lady's
mind having been so occupied with other matters that he had had great
difficulty in losing. Indeed, it was only by pushing an occasional piece
of his own off the board that he had succeeded.

"A penny for your thoughts, Amelia," he said, at last.

Mrs. Bowman smiled faintly. "They were far away," she confessed.

Mr. Clark assumed an expression of great solemnity; allusions of this
kind to the late Mr. Bowman were only too frequent. He was fortunate
when they did not grow into reminiscences of a career too blameless for
successful imitation.

"I suppose," said the widow, slowly--"I suppose I ought to tell you:
I've had a letter."

Mr. Clark's face relaxed.

"It took me back to the old scenes," continued