d
squinting along it.

"I should have known you anywhere," continued the other, mournfully; "and
here I've thrown up a splendid berth and come all the way from Australia
just for one glimpse of Miss Kybird, and she doesn't know me. When I
die, Kybird, you will find the word 'Calais' engraven upon my heart."

Mr. Kybird said, "Oh, indeed." His daughter tossed her head and bade Mr.
Nugent take his nonsense to people who might like it.

"Last time I see you," said Mr. Kybird, pursing up his lips and gazing at
the counter in an effort of memory; "last time I see you was one fifth o'
November when you an' another bright young party was going about in two
suits o' oilskins wot I'd been 'unting for 'igh and low all day long."

Jack Nugent sighed. "They were happy times, Kybird."

"Might ha' been for you," retorted the other, his temper rising a little
at the remembrance of his wrongs.

"Have you come home for good? inquired Miss Kybird, curiously. Have you
seen your father? He passed here a little while ago."

"I saw him," said Jack, with a brevity which was not lost upon the astute
Mr. Kybird. "I may stay in Sunwich, and I may not--it all depends."

"You're not going 'ome?" said Mr. Kybird.

"No."

The shopkeeper stood considering. He had a small room to let at the top
of his house, and he stood divided between the fear of not getting his
rent and the joy to a man fond of simple pleasures, to be obtained by
dunning the arrogant Captain Nugent for his son's debts. Before he could
arrive at a decision his meditations were interrupted by the entrance of
a stout, sandy-haired lady from the back parlour, who, having conquered
his scruples against matrimony some thirty years before, had kept a
particularly wide-awake eye upon him ever since.

"Your tea's a-gettin' cold," she remarked, severely.

Her husband received the news with calmness. He was by no means an
enthusiast where that liquid was concerned, the admiration evoked by its
non-inebriating qualities having been always something in the nature of a
mystery to him.

"I'm coming," he retorted; "I'm just 'aving a word with Mr. Nugent 'ere."

"Well, I never did," said the stout lady, coming farther into the shop
and regarding the visitor. "I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im. If you'd asked
me who 'e was I couldn't ha' told you--I shouldn't 'ave knowed 'im from
Adam."

Jack shook his head. "It's hard to be forgotten like this," he said,
sadly. "Even Miss K