ve been registered,
the tilt of the coat-tails patented. Edward John Charles has not altered
a hair, although it is almost six years since we last saw him wagging
his tails here.

"You're expectin' 'im 'ome to-day, Ed'ard John, I 'ear," the inefficient
Miffin observes as he crosses to the Charles establishment for an ounce
of shag.

"Yes, and about time, I think. Why, he ain't been through this door for
two year, and last time 'e could on'y stay four days."

"In moi opinion, them youths what goes to the cities learns to despise
their 'umble 'omes," Miffin commented, with a sad fall of the eyes.
"Now, if I 'ad a son 'e'd 'ave to stay at 'ome, and take up 'is fether's
trade."

"But you ain't got a son, Miffin, and that's all the difference. If
there was a young Miffin, why, you're just the man to ha' been proud o'
'im makin' 'is way in the world. Mind you, Hampton ain't the on'y place
under the sun."

"It'll be strange for 'Enry to come to the station," said Miffin,
adroitly diverting the drift of the talk; for he was touchy on the
subject of children, being as discontented because he had none as most
of the village folk were because they had so many.

"He says it's going to bring 'im often back to us, and I believe he
means it."

"Well, it's to be 'oped 'e'll never regret leavin' 'ome," was the last
croak of the gloomy tailor, as he rammed home a charge of shag into his
burnt cherry-wood pipe with his claw-like forefinger, and stepped back
to his flat irons.

Edward John chuckled contentedly. Miffin was a constant entertainment to
him. He had a suspicion that the tailor had been appointed by Providence
to prevent his becoming unduly puffed up about his talented son.

Just in time for tea, the subject of their conversation jumped down from
the butcher's gig in which he had travelled from the station. His father
welcomed him with a sedate shake of the hand; his sisters three ran to
him and were shyly kissed. How our sisters shoot straight into
womanhood with the gathering up of their back hair and the lengthening
of their frocks! A brotherly kiss after two years to a sister who may
have another young man to kiss her, produces shyness in the least
self-conscious of young men.

In the parlour Henry found his mother, still the timid, withered little
woman he had always known her, busy setting the tea, her curl-papers
still eloquent of her household toils. He was conscious of the
curl-papers for the first time as